


Living is More Than Survival

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slave coding, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an Enforcer survives the destruction of his city he's faced with a Prime who won't let him go and a young SpecOps agent determined to make him want to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire from the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Deaths: On screen: Nameless Cons and Praxians. Off screen, Decepticon Elite.

The small silver mech whistled softly as he looked out the transport window. Praxus had been described as leveled, practically gone, in the briefing. Jazz had seen bad in his functioning. He'd seen worse since becoming an Autobot. But this was a whole new level of destruction. The Decepticons might have finally crossed the line from revolutionaries to mass murderers out for genocide. This had been no assault against a military base. No precise strike against the government or a threat. This had been a strike against a city, a _neutral_ city no less, and all of its sparks without discretion.

They were supposed to be looking for survivors. As they touched down Jazz was guessing it was going to be more of a salvage mission, not that it would make that much difference to Jazz's mission. Officially he was here to help out with the general Autobot mission of search and rescue along with a dozen other SpecOps agents. Some, like Hound, really were along for that as their primary. Others, like Jazz, the search and rescue was incidental and a cover for gathering anything they could from Praxus's records, and make contact with any of the local agents, imperial and city, that might have survived. It was mostly about the intel though, especially looking at out the smoking and razed city.

Most military targets hadn't been hit so hard. Why would Megatron take such offence at a city?

Jazz considered that as he accessed a map of the former layout of the city and pinpointed his targeted area. He'd been assigned the Praxian Enforcers Headquarters. While officially there was little of critical value stored there, what happened officially and what occurred under the table were two different things entirely.

Praxus's neutrality and their refusal to acknowledge the rebellion as legitimate and necessary might have angered Megatron enough to warrant such an extreme action. The flip side of that credit was the fact that Praxus had pretty much started to ignore the rule of the Senate and Prime as well. The City of Praxus had declared itself independent almost a millennia ago, and had prospered because of that.

Maybe that was it, Jazz decided as he wove his way through the rubble. Praxus didn't fit the Warlord's vision either, so Megatron decided to level it on some pretense or another. Out of sight, out of mind. And an example of the firepower in the rebellion's hands as well.

Enforcer Headquarters was even more leveled than most, all the way down to the sixth level down -- the last official level being sub-basement five. Then there was a level and a half of planetary crust and it opened up again as part of the unofficial shadow empire that Jazz's boss's boss's boss ruled. While Praxus only had two levels, there was a good chance that the data survived, even if there was little chance that any mecha did. The concussions from the blasts that took out the heavily fortified structure above was unlikely to leave anything with a sparkpulse.

He stifled another whistle as he started his descent, sliding more than climbing down into the crater. At the bottom he overlaid the latest schematics with what he was looking at and tracked down where the lift shaft was. A bit of digging to clear the rubble and a small shaped charge to open the security door gave him access. From there it was just his palm and pede magnets to get him down the smooth cylinder to the first level and blew the door.

Or rather, he set the explosive, scrambled up to the surface, waited for it to detonate and went down to look at a level that was crushed and filled with debris.

"Retrieve the intelligence, they said. It'll survive, they said. It's important, they said." Jazz grumbled to himself as he started down once more. "Oh, and the entire time, act like you are looking for survivors."

It was a mission well within his skills. Just looking at the mess he was going to have to wade through was enough to make any mech grumpy. Still, there was some hope that the bottom level, under so much more reinforced and hardened protection, may have faired better. More explosives, another scramble to the surface, another wait while they did their work and a trip down that was more controlled fall than climb.

"Well, wadya know," Jazz grinned as he looked into a level that was largely intact. Gray Praxians were scattered about, few showing much damage. They'd been deactivated by the shockwaves. Humming to himself, Jazz moved among the frames, checking consoles and memory banks to see what could be retrieved. He plugged in external recovery devices and let them run, moving along smoothly until he reached an extensive and heavily reinforced and secured set up in the back.

There was a mech slumped over the unit, shadowy in the dim light. Higher ranking, from the look, and if his colors were out in true light and still live, probably quite a looker as Enforces went, Jazz decided after a quick glance.

"Sorry mech." He murmured as he reached to move the frame, froze, and jumped back, already reporting over the secure comm to his own boss. ::I've got a live one!::

::Image and condition.:: Scuttlebutt ordered calmly, though there was a definite hint of excitement.

Jazz relayed an image as ordered and moved closer to start an evaluation. ::Pretty heavily damaged from the blast on the outside, but internals don't look too bad. Can't tell how bad his processor might be shaken. First living thing I've come across. All the rest are gray and gone.::

::Jazz, do what you need to to keep that one functioning. His tac-net is worth more than both of us. His designation's Prowl. Try to keep him in stasis too.::

::Right. On it.:: Jazz answered, starting what field medical he could, the rest of information gathering mission pushed to the back of his processors as he worked. It wasn't long before he felt his rescue was stable and he returned to intel gathering, checking back on Prowl's vitals every few kliks until he caught the first sounds of someone -- three someone's actually -- coming towards him.

He went on the defensive for a second, his intel equipment subspaced in a spark-pulse even as he answered the comm from Scuttlebutt.

::Medic and transport's incoming. Try not to shoot them, 'kay?::

::Maybe warn me a little earlier next time?:: Jazz grumbled in return, moving towards the shadows a bit as he identified the mecha entering. He knew all three from their files, but not personal experience. Ratchet was the Chief Medical Officer of the entire army. Not a mecha to mess with. Iatr he'd seen in passing, but so far he'd managed to avoid the SpecOps field medic. Springer was no doubt the transport. The triple changer had a good flight alt to get out the shaft and enough power to lift both medics and patient.

Ratchet went right for the laid out Praxian, either uncaring about the potential dangers or trusting his companions to keep him safe. Springer was doing a good job of looking around, but Iatr was the one who's gaze slid to Jazz almost immediately, yet she didn't give him away as she moved to assist Ratchet.

"I know one of your mech's around here somewhere." Ratchet growled as he started to work on stabilizing Prowl for transport. "If they're listening they did a good job. If not you can tell them later."

"I will," Iatr's light harmonic was full of amusement before she went serious with helping Ratchet while Springer kept a sharp optic out for movement of any kind.

Ratchet went quite as he plugged in to the Praxian and started pulling up diagnostics. It was several kliks before he grunted, though the sounds this time was a little happier. "He'll survive. There's enough extra armor and shielding under his frame that initially processor, accessory systems, and spark all look good. Gonna be one pit of a rebuild on his frame though."

"It still makes him one of the lucky ones. An Enforcer isn't likely to have kin to grieve for," Iatr commented. "Here's hoping his processors are as intact as they look."

Ratchet huffed an agreement as they went to work securing the Praxian to a platform for transport.

Jazz watched in silence from the shadows as the Praxian was moved smoothly and quickly to Springer and lifted from the hole that had almost been his grave. His curiosity at the value of this mech was not satisfied in any way, shape, or form. But there were other things that demanded his attention right now. ::Target removed. Returnin' to primary mission.:: He informed Scuttlebutt as he got back to work.

* * *

Technically Jazz wasn't supposed to be watching this, but there was a lot of things he did that he wasn't technically supposed to do. And his curiosity with the mech that he had pulled from the rubble was only growing the more he discovered about Prowl.

The mech was repaired, and it was finally time to bring him online. He was watching via a hacked security feed because he wasn't allowed to be there, which to Jazz was basically a blaring red flasher saying 'find out why.' Only he hadn't found out yet, so he was watching, hoping to get a clue why Ratchet and their new and rather strange Prime were the ones in the unusually secure medical room. Ratchet had taken great pains to ensure that no one had come in contact with Prowl other than the medical staff to up this point.

It made no sense to Jazz and Jazz _hated_ things he couldn't make any sense out of. They were the things likely to get a mecha killed.

"Whenever you are ready Prime, I'll start the sequence to bring him out of stasis. Remember- he code is going to be looking for someone to lock on to as an authority figure. We need it to be you." Ratchet was saying, even if there were undertones of displeasure in his voice as he spoke. "I only get to be here because his coding knows it will never be a medic," he touched the shoulder markings that indicated his function.

"I understand," Prime sounded even less pleased. "I never expected _Praxus_ to practice such barbaric customs. Of all cities, they seemed one of the most sane." Optimus shook his helm, drew in a deep vent of atmosphere, and nodded to Ratchet. "Begin."

Ratchet plugged into the Praxian, triggering the boot sequence and monitoring it as began. "Just remember- what you consider barbaric is natural to him. To imply otherwise to him will just confuse him." The medic reminded the Prime.

"I will," Optimus promised and then fell silent as the kliks passed by, turning into breems, then groons and dragged on to just shy of a full joor. It was by far the longest boot sequence Jazz had ever witnessed. Judging by the unease from Prime, it was by far the longest one he'd witnessed either, and the heavily upgraded convoy class did not boot up quickly at all. It was only Ratchet's calm that kept either of them from being seriously worried.

Pale blue optics, nearly white despite their dim glow, flickered on and had to work to focus.

Ratchet put a single finger a few hand spans in front of them to help, and then used it to draw Prowl attention to the large red mech a bit further away. "This is Optimus Prime."

Prowl cycled his optics, then focused on Prime as some of the tension in his frame bled out. His gaze shifted briefly to Ratchet. "Am I cleared for duty, doctor?"

"Once I have confirmed that you are functioning at full capacity and that all of your systems and code are performing fully I will clear to return to regular active duty, as defined by your new Lord." Ratchet responded formally.

"Understood," Prowl shifted his focused. "Optimus Prime, did my records survive?"

"They did. You are Commandant Prowl, an Enforcer of Praxus, tactical and planning specialist with an experimental tactical network and an exemplary record." Optimus answered.

Doorwings flicked. "What is left of Praxus, My Lord Prime?"

"Very little." Optimus replied. "There are some civilian survivors, but no one of rank or ruling class survived that we have discovered, or has come forward."

Ice blue optics dimmed and shuttered most of the way. A mark of grief in most, yet the frame language did not imply grief. It implied nothing that Jazz could pick out. When they powered back up, Prowl's expression was even more blank than before.

"Permission to shut down, Lord Prime," Prowl asked, his tone no more emotional than if he was asking to recharge, yet the glyphs were of a much more permanent nature.

"Denied." Optimus replied. "I would rather have your service."

That earned the faintest displays of grief, but they were there and gone so fast Jazz rewatched it just to make sure it had really happened.

"Understood, Lord Prime," Prowl's voice lost what little inflection it had, as did his frame.

"What the _pit_ did you do?" Ratchet growled at Prowl.

"He turned over control of the frame and responses to the tac-net AI until he can process the emotional response enough to not hamper our performance," Prowl's frame responded.

"How long until we may expect the return of Prowl to control?" Optimus asked, hiding the fact that he was disturbed by the switch as much as he could.

The AI paused briefly. "There is a 93.8% probability he will be functional within three orns."

"Is that normal?" Optimus asked, looking at Ratchet. The medic could only shrug.

"That is the standard grieving time for all Enforcers," the AI answered. "It should be sufficient."

"I would prefer that Prowl be in full command of himself before he resumes active duty." The Prime commented, one optic on Ratchet as he addressed the AI controlled frame before him. "Would it cause issues for him to be on leave for those orns?"

"Negative," the AI responded.

"How about that?" Optimus perked up some, laying out an idea for the medic. "He stays here under your supervision until you are satisfied that Prowl is functioning and in control, and the release him back to active duty in my service as I promised?"

"It works for me," Ratchet nodded, still giving the AI a wary and rather skeptical look.

"Understood, Sir," the AI replied.

From his observation point Jazz was on the verge of shaking his helm in bewilderment. This mech was a puzzle and then some. And it was only making him want to find out more.

Carefully he filed all of his observations and notes as he cut the connection, making sure that he left as few pedeprints as possible, and set off on his self-assigned mission.

Learn more about this...Prowl.

* * *

Ratchet finished his last appointment of the orn and his final round of checks on patients still in his care. Everything was calm enough to hand over to Fix-it for the off shift. He wasn't ready to head to his quarters though, not just yet. Once Prime had left and Prowl had been settled in a room and placed on leave, the AI had done a soft reboot to put Prowl back in charge.

It had been something to see. Drone-like frame language fell away and Prowl curled into a tight ball, his doorwings rattling in pain, grief and very definite anger.

He let himself into the private room, standing quietly by the door for a klik until he was sure that the Praxian knew he was there and choosing not to acknowledge his present.

"You're not just mourning." He observed quietly.

"One does not just mourn the loss of _everything_ ," Prowl responded, his vocal harmonics unstable with grief.

"What all have you lost? You still function." Ratchet pointed out, mentally bracing himself for an explosion. He has seen mecha come unhinged from far less than the Enforcer had already endured.

Ice blue optics locked onto him and despite the hate that bloomed across the already stern features, there was no explosion. Doorwings quivered, armor rattled and there were plenty of smaller indications of the depth of emotion, but that was as far as it went.

"Against my wishes," Prowl said simply, his tone ice cold. "No one has been denied that request in a dozen generations."

"You are needed. He believes you can stop others from suffering as you and your city are." Ratchet informed Prowl. He knew he was only giving part of the reasons for Optimus' actions. The Prime was still too new to his position to really understand that deactivation, the end of a functioning, could be a blessing.

Strategically keeping Prowl functioning was a sound move. If they could keep him sane.

"The reasons are irrelevant, Ratchet. I will do as ordered. You know that," Prowl's helm fell forward again and focused downwards towards his hands where they were clasped around his legs, which were pulled up to his chest. "You know I have no choice."

"Optimus knows that as well, though I know that is little comfort to you." The fact that the Prime had been angry when he had discovered Praxus's practices when it came to commissioning and creating its Enforcers would only confused the pre-programmed spark before him, and Ratchet wasn't ready to force the young and stressed Prime to face that Praxus was one of the more respectable cities in its use of compliance coding in non-slaves. "The AI has indicated you will be able to continue functioning and serving. Will Prowl be able to do the same?"

"Of course," Prowl's tone was almost insulted as he glanced up with a scowl. "I have my orders."

Ratchet chuckled softly. "So Prowl lives for orders and duty?"

Pale blue optics remained locked with Ratchet's. "He does now."

That piqued the medic's curiosity. "What did he live for before?"

"Duty, unit, love, pleasure," Prowl shrugged.

"You continue to function. There is a chance to find at least some of that again." Ratchet prodded.

"My city is gone. My people are gone. I should be gone. I will serve until the Prime allows me to join my people and my city." Prowl said evenly. "No Enforcer was meant to outlive his duty. It is _wrong_ to outlive the mecha I protected."

"You did your best. And there are others that need your protection now. Optimus believes that you can help more." Ratchet countered, wondering if the pre-programmed mech was going to be able to see outside of the city that had brought him online, to the rest of Cybertron that was still around him.

Primus, it was one of the reasons he hated pre-progs sometimes.

"I will obey," Prowl reiterated with a tense flick of one doorwing that was warning enough that he hadn't taken it the way Ratchet had meant it. "I will do whatever I must to end the unique usefulness I represent. Eventually he will grant my request."

Ratchet shook his helm slightly, not sure about the last belief of the Praxian but with a suspicion that Prowl was holding onto it as his only thread of hope. It was unsettling, but Ratchet had found out a little, and he might be able to work with it. And warn Optimus of what he had brought about. The odds of a pre-prog changing on such a fundamental level was small. Probably even smaller than the Prime's willingness to allow a mecha to commit suicide when he could prevent it with a word.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" He finally asked as he prepared to leave.

"Yes. A cube of high grade, or jet grade, sweet," Prowl's voice was low, low enough to be passed off as unheard if Ratchet wanted to.

"I'll see what I can find and have sent over." Ratchet promised as he let himself out of the room. There may not be much to spare, but if he pulled a few strings he could at least give the Praxian that. He had no doubt that it had taken a tremendous need to drive the pre-prog to actually _ask_ for something so frivolous.

He honestly thought it was a good sign. A single cube, even of jet grade, wasn't nearly enough to get seriously overcharged on. Prowl really did want some comfort in the crackle of the charge. That he wanted it sweet ... did Prowl have any clue how much he'd given away in those few glyphs?

Likely not, at least not in the moment.

Ratchet went to hunt down the request feeling a tiny bit better about Prowl's prospects.

* * *

Jazz checked the time, and the energon he was carrying. He figured he was only going to get one chance at this, so he had better make it good.

He's been stalking the Praxian, Prowl, since the mech had been released from med-bay, picking out little insights that he could from observation and eavesdropping.

The mech liked sweet energon when he was stressed or tired. He was very sharp, highly statistical, and very vocal when he felt he was right. He had no hesitation in standing up to his superiors, a point that actually seemed to be raising him in the esteem of the new Prime, if rumors were to be believed.

Well, now Jazz was going to see for himself. A single ping announced his presence and requested admittance to the small office. The door slid open almost immediately to give Jazz a personal perspective of the space that Prowl called home. Sure, the mech had quarters, senior officer's quarters, nicer than Jazz's by a fair margin, but if he was there, you knew he was recharging. The mech spent his entire _life_ here, or somewhere in tactical.

"How can I help you?" Prowl's response was rote, and from a very different existence that still managed to sound right here.

"You could take a little bit of a break here at the end of your shift and refuel with another mech." Jazz said, stepping easily into the small office and setting his offering on the corner of the painfully neat desk.

Prowl regarded it, then Jazz, something that might be curiosity on his hard, classically harsh and handsome features. "Where is your energon?" Prowl finally asked with a motion to the only other chair in the room.

Delighted at the acceptance of his offer and offering, Jazz folded himself into the chair and produced another cube of energon, simple daily fuel, from his subspace. "Right here."

Prowl nodded and picked up the cube and began to drink. He didn't chug it like he couldn't wait to finish, but the first mouthful was down before it registered that his cube wasn't simple daily fuel. The second was a sip, a taste, and came with optics dimmed slightly in pleasure.

Across from him Jazz smiled, pleased at the reaction as he chalked up a point in his favor and started on his own fuel. From where he sat he relaxed his field, letting it drift out far enough that Prowl could easily teek it, but not pushing it on the other mech.

"Thank you," Prowl said softly, his voice a bit rough with emotion. His field was pulled tight, but Jazz could still teek it. Pain, grief, loss, sadness, appreciation and more, yet despite all the negative emotions, the overall impression was positive. Jazz had made him feel good, and he wasn't hiding it.

"You're welcome." Jazz responded, completely sincere as he nodded to the cube of energon Prowl was holding. "Did I get the blend right?"

"It is quite pleasant," Prowl responded with a pleased sigh, his optics almost closed as he slowly sipped the treat. "Want do you want?" He asked.

To Jazz, the even tone gave the strong impression that Prowl was opening a bribery conversation and was completely okay with it.

Jazz also knew better. Even with so little time, the mech was a known terror when it came to regulations. He was a stickler for them. So this was a trap, an opening for Jazz to incriminate himself, but only if he was already so inclined. It was very cop-like behavior, and Jazz had taken advantage of it many times in the past. The difference was that this was the first time where he was reasonably sure that he'd be arrested if it had been an opening bribe. That and it was the first time it _wasn't_ an opening bribe.

"To get to know you a little more. I'm curious." Jazz admitted, his field teeking of honesty. It would be interesting to see how the other mech took his response.

"There is little to know. I am a Commandant of the Praxian Enforcers with a specialization in tactical response and organization. I began as a hunter class, then was transferred to the command precinct and into my current function," Prowl recounted between sips. "I am working to end the war so I may return to the duties I was sparked for."

"A hunter? What is that like?" Jazz asked.

"A hunter is assigned a single high-priority case, typically a terrorist, traitor or serial killer, and their sole responsibility is to eliminate that threat to society. Most are solitary, some work with a partner, and few are seen very often as they are only required to appear between missions with proof of completion and comm in their status once a metacycle," Prowl answered.

"So what kind were you? The solitary variety, or the kind that liked a partner?" Jazz inquired, intrigued and a little surprised with how open Prowl was being.

"Solitary." Prowl said simply, enjoying his energon in small, slow sips. "No one can keep up with me or add value to the team."

"Pretty sure of yourself there, aren't ya? Ever been wrong?"

"Negative. I was programmed very well," Prowl responded, his frame at ease. A wave of grief passed through him, causing his fingers to tighten around the cube, but it passed almost as quickly as it had come and he took another sip.

"So why were you transferred?" Jazz asked, trying to change the topic a little bit. He hadn't meant to cause Prowl grief, not when he was becoming more interested in the mech with each answer to his questions.

"I was between missions when a deep shift quake shook Praxus," Prowl said quietly, marking a moment in time that Jazz remembered well. "Someone thought that my tac-net and programming would make an exceptional coordinator, and they were correct. The emergency transfer became permanent when someone realized that I could replace a dozen regular coordinators to save credits."

The other mech nodded. "That was one that was felt half way around the planet. You miss your first function?" Jazz asked.

"Irrelevant. It is no longer my function." Prowl answered, and Jazz was sure he thought of it that way. It left the Jazz thinking for a few kliks as he pondered that, trying to process it in a way that he could understand. It didn't help that Prowl had just contradicted his earlier statement, since he was definitely not still a Praxian Enforcer. 

Eventually Jazz gave up and just asked. "Is that part of being a pre-prog?"

"Likely," Prowl gave a small shrug. "It is part of being me."

"Okay." Jazz shrugged, letting it go for now. "So what else is being 'part of' Prowl? Besides working and recharging?"

Ice blue optics looked up at Jazz, and he knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Waiting to be released to my city," Prowl said.

"Released...stop functioning?" Jazz stared. "Why?"

"To join my people. I exist to serve Praxus, to protect her and her citizens. I have no desire to outlive my purpose," Prowl said simply.

"Why not? Why not find something else?" Jazz asked, clearly having a hard time fathoming being so tied to anyone or anything that the end of functioning was the best answer that could be found.

Prowl stilled and leveled his gaze on Jazz. "Because a Praxian Enforcer is what I am. I have no desire to be something else, much less to abandon what I was created to be. You were kindled, I expect. I cannot fault you for never having known perfection of function, and thus having no grasp of how worthless moving onto something far less agreeable would be."

"But you were happy being a tactical coordinator there. You're a tactical coordinator here now. Same function, if different mecha. Is it that different?" Jazz asked, trying to understand. "And yah, I'm a kindled mech."

"Culture, loyalty, respect, _purpose_ ," Prowl rattled off the main differences. "I do not expect a kindled mecha to understand. It is not part of your coding to be that loyal."

"We can be." Jazz grumbled, then flinched. "Yah, maybe your right. Maybe we don't." He didn't sound or feel like he believed it as he swallowed the last of his energon and nodded to Prowl. "Thanks mech. I'll be on my way."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in a goodbye, finished his energon and went back to work.


	2. Learning is a Process

Jazz hummed as he made his way to Prowl's office, pleased with himself and in a rather good mood. Not only had he managed to get his hands on some of the high grade that Prowl liked, which was getting more difficult by the orn it seemed, but he also had another present for the Praxian.

He'd finally gotten the mech to open up a little more about his personal functioning, and Jazz was more than a little relieved that Prowl had admitted to some normal hobbies. Like reading. That admission had led to the datapad in Jazz's subspace, filled with a collection of more obscure texts that he was hoping would catch and hold the Praxian's interest for at least a few kliks.

He was well aware that at three decaorns after Prowl's release into the general population that there where whispers going around about what he was up to and the theories ran the gambit. From keeping Prowl focused was his assignment, to the idea that he was trying to get into Prowl's berth because the stuck up mech had likely never been 'faced before to a rather offensive suggestion that Jazz was Prowl's keeper because he was a drone and drones needed a keeper to even wilder ideas. Most seemed to think it was the allure of the unusual and likely untouched that kept Jazz going back to Prowl.

The last he was willing to let go, since deep in his own processor he was willing to admit that he was starting to find the mech attractive on multiple levels. The rest he countered by ignoring, or sowing his own rumors in return, to redirect either theories to less harmful assumptions, or attention to other mecha.

A couple of romance rumors had even had some entertaining results, with one pair actually getting together, and two others resulting in spectacular blow-ups.

He pinged the door and was admitted, and instantly knew something had gone _very_ wrong. Prowl's doorwings were tucked so tightly down and against his back that they were nearly invisible, optics were too bright and not as clearly focused as usual and despite the datapad in Prowl's hand, Jazz suspected the mech wasn't reading it, just staring at it.

Despite all that, Prowl looked up and greeted Jazz with the usual "How can I help you?"

"You can start by taking a drink of this, then telling me what is wrong." Jazz replied as the offered Prowl the high grade he had brought and settled in the single guest chair in the office. Prowl gave a small nod as he accepted the cube, which he always did to indicate he understood that this was personal time rather than work. A sip went down and a shudder settled his armor, though his doorwings remained hidden, a position that Jazz suspected must hurt. 

A second sip and Prowl x-vented softly. "Thank you."

"That's what friends are for." Jazz answered as he pulled out his own cube of regular fuel and started in on it. At this point he knew Prowl would get around to answering his question if he was patient. The more upset Prowl was, the longer it took for him to open up.

This round took half the cube of high grade, taken mostly in sips, before Prowl's processors were fuzzy enough for his doorwings to unfold enough to look like doorwings again. It was by far a record.

The first statement out of his vocalizer and Jazz knew why.

"Prime is trying to lose the war."

"Care to explain that in a way a non-super-tactical driven mech can process?" Jazz asked, opening the way for Prowl to go deeper, to vent or to work through it from a different angle as the Praxian needed to.

Prowl drew in a deep vent of atmosphere, let it go, and tried. "He has rejected every plan with better than a seventy-four point four percent probability of success on the grounds that the cost is too high, while ignoring the fact that ongoing losses will exceed those of any of my plans within ten vorns simply maintaining the status quo." A hard flare of hate-filled fury surged through Prowl's field before it was quelled rather abruptly. "He's ordered me to continue, to devise a way to end the war without decimating our race or Cybertron, and refuses every option he is given!"

Jazz pondered that quietly. "What does he consider too high a cost?"

"Any expected losses." Prowl somehow managed not to snarl.

Jazz vented in surprise, that an answer not even he had been expecting. "Can you convince him that is impossible?"

"Not any more," Prowl shook in barely contained rage. "He ordered me to create a plan that would deactivate _no one_ and stop talking about acc...." his vocalizer skipped several times as physical pain cascaded through him, shorting out all thought but to be still and mentally silent until it passed.

Jazz hissed in displeasure, rising without completely processing what he was doing as he moved around the desk and the very still Praxian. Reaching out, he began so gently run his hands over the elegant panels of the doorwings. Magnets in his palms activated on the lowest setting, pulling at the smooth plating.

Prowl's vents hiccupped from the pain even as his doorwings pressed into the touch, trembling with relief as Prowl's frame gradually relaxed as the pain faded. "I can not speak of this any more than I have. It is not permitted," he said quietly.

"Pit take it." Jazz growled, continuing to work since Prowl had made no indication that he wanted him to stop. He was rapidly making notes, wishing that he could ask the Praxian more. He devoted all of his processor that wasn't tending to Prowl to the task of working out what he could ask and should not ask. Sure, there were a couple obvious one, the biggest one he was sure was 'acceptable losses', but it was likely anything to do with why Prime rejected the plans, what the plans were and what the new terms were all out of line. But what in the pit could cause that kind of reaction to _thoughts_?

"So this reaction, is it off limits to talk about that too? Yes-no questions ok?" He rambled casually as he worked, indulged himself with the way that Prowl's field was slowly easing under his touch. "Not answering is fine too. Pick something else if you need to."

"Standard Enforcer compliance coding," Prowl answered the implied question. "I was ordered not to speak of a subject again, so I cannot. That feels very good," he murmured.

"I'll keep doin' it long as you need me to." Jazz replied. "So it stops ya talking about stuff you've been ordered to not to. Seems kinda harsh to me."

"It is only harsh when one is rebellious," Prowl gave a sigh of deep physical pleasure. "This was also harsh because it was my first encounter with the hard stop feature."

The slender mech continued to rub the wings, processor spinning as he took in what he was hearing. Prowl might call it compliance coding, but Jazz recognized the description under another name: slave code. Harsh slave code. "So you can't talk about it _too_ me, but can you think out loud?"

"I can barely think about forbidden subjects silently," Prowl murmured, his optics dimming as he sank forward, his frame relaxing on a deep level.

Jazz began to hum, smiling happily at the reaction. He continued to silently contemplate what Prowl had told him, and wondered to himself how far he would go to help the Praxian, provided that Prowl would, or could, accept any offers he might be able to provide. His field flickered a bit as he wondered why he cared to, but it only took him a couple of kliks to reach an answer. The pain he had seen the other in was enough. A mech should be able to think and say what he wanted, what he believed. To take that from anyone was wrong. That Optimus had done so to an officer, a tactician who existed to provide opinions and options, made Prime a hypocrite of the worst type. To do so when being presented with ways to end the war by victory was ... how could _Prime_ doom them all like that?

He vented, shaking his helm and filing it all away to contemplate later. Right now he was enjoying the way Prowl was melting under the attention, the Praxian as open as Jazz had ever seen him.

He couldn't fix the problem. Not right away. But he could make it a little better in the moment for the one suffering.

* * *

Jazz had used his resources to their fullest in between missions, and had come to the conclusion that he needed information from the mech most likely to know and at least somewhat likely to talk to him about it. Which explained why he was lingering outside medbay, working himself up to enter the space that was never a good place to be. There was simply no good reason for a mecha who wasn't badly damaged to be here, but Jazz wanted information, so he put on his best friendly face and walked in.

Ratchet looked over from a patient, narrowed his optics and pointed to an out of the way spot. Jazz dipped his helm, acknowledging the order and just thankful that he was being allowed into the often temperamental mech's domain. He focused on what he wanted to say until Ratchet turned to him.

"What's broken?"

Well, that was a straightforward question, and the answer was just as simple, at least on the surface.

"Prowl."

That got a raised optic ridge and a far grimmer look on Ratchet's features. He turned the room over to another medic and motioned Jazz to follow him into his office. With the door closed Ratchet sat down at his desk and motion Jazz to the chair on the other side.

"Specifically, what's broken, in your opinion?" Ratchet asked.

"His ability to be a mech, and his ability to be happy, or at least as happy as he gets. The Prime's making his processors ache, and hurting him." Jazz growled, optics glowing a little brighter.

Ratchet sighted and rubbed his chevron's shield. "I know. The bottom line is we _need_ those processors to win the war. Even if I could convince Optimus that letting him go is the merciful thing, we can't afford it."

"It's worse than that." Jazz growled. "Do you sit in on the planning meetings?"

Ratchet shook his helm as he pulled up the record of it. "What do you know of it?"

"Prime's asking for the impossible. And Prowl's the one suffering for it. He shouldn't have to suffer just for thinking thoughts!"

"For thinking?" Ratchet scowled as he finished reviewing the notes of the meeting. "Back up and explain exactly what he told you."

"Something about it being standard Enforcer compliance coding. Prime told him to not accept any losses. When Prowl tried to tell me that he locked up- bad. I could teek his pain." Jazz tried to explain. "I had to do some digging to find out Prime's orders, but winning the war without any losses, it's not possible."

"No, it's no," Ratchet agreed with a darkening expression. "I'll have a chat with our Prime about this. I know it wasn't his intention to stop Prowl from thinking, much less cause him pain. He has no clue how to handle strong compliance coding yet."

"Fine. You talk to him. What else can we do?" Jazz demanded, and frowning as he threw out another question without giving the medic a chance to answer the first. "And what sort of stupid belief makes 'im think he can win without sacrifice?"

"He was designated _Optimus_ Prime for good reason," Ratchet sighed. "What you can do is stay off the subject. Until he's told otherwise, it will only hurt him more to try to speak about a forbidden subject. There really isn't much else you can do."

"What about changing the code? And maybe convince him that he doesn't want to stop functioning?" Jazz asked one hand raised and waving in acceptance of the orders and information.

"Jazz, he's a sparked Enforcer. He came on line with that code and was brought up in that culture. Even if I could strip the code, which I can't, not and leave him functional, it won't change how he _feels_ about outliving his function and people. It would only allow him to ignore his orders and off himself without permission. As for changing his mind about the cultural he was raised in, it might help if he actually attended the survivor meetings, or it might not," Ratchet could only shrug. "What has you so fixated on him?"

Jazz thought about it for a nanoklik, then shrugged. No harm in telling Ratchet. "I was the one who found him. Thanks for the compliment, but the way."

"You might not want to tell him you're responsible for his survival. Let me take that hit," Ratchet suggested, then turned serious. "You're setting yourself up for a lot of pain. Mecha like that isn't ever going to think like you. A different culture is just the beginning of it. He's hard coded with different values and brought up to believe in them completely."

"So what are you saying- I shouldn't be friends with him? Leave him alone to suffer?" Jazz demanded.

"No, I'm warning you that you're trying to be friends with a mecha that doesn't understand the term, but far more, one that will never want anything more than to extinguish," Ratchet sighed. "Pre-progs like him don't fear the end. Right now, it's a reward he's working hard for."

Jazz considered the warning, then shrugged. "There's a first for everything. I don't have anything to lose, and it sounds like we have a lot ta lose if we lose him."

Ratchet rubbed his faceplates. "You do what you want, but we're in no danger of losing him. He _can't_ off himself until Prime lets him."

"Which from the sound of it, he is never going to let him do. So short of a new Prime or an accident, Prowl doesn't have a chance." Jazz concluded.

"Give me a little credit, Jazz," Ratchet huffed. "Guilt and threat are powerful motivators when you know how to use them right, and I do. Though given your function, I expect you do to, along with blackmail." He leaned back in his chair. "You know this Prime's favorite rallying cry?"

"Yeah, I do." Jazz settled back in his chair. "And I can already quote you his argument for not letting Prowl go. Prowl doesn't have the freedom to decide if he wants to go on, with that code in place."

"Which is true enough on a level," Ratchet agreed. "It also puts Optimus in the same position as those who used to control Prowl's existence. He's putting his judgment over that of the mecha who has to live with the choices made for him."

"Unless we can get Prowl to agree to have the coding altered." Jazz countered. "Altered so that it is his choice."

"Jazz, this is some of the most aggressive slave coding ever developed and as far as I can tell he's never challenged it," Ratchet sighed. "I've dealt with mecha who have, and it leaves damage every time it activates. Prowl has none of the markers of crossing it. I doubt he's capable of wanting to. And that's before we get into the issues of trying to edit such well-established coding. It'd be kinder on him, not to mention a lot safer, to just wipe him clean so he starts over as a new mecha. That won't happen either though, because he can't consent to it and Prime would never order it. The best we can do is make Prowl as comfortable as we can during the war, and after it, you leave that to me."

Jazz was rather sure he knew what Ratchet was implying, and even if it was the best for Prowl, he was finding the implication hard to accept. "Fine. I'll work on keeping him comfy. Got any more advice?"

"Since 'try not to get emotionally involved' is way too late, read up on Praxian Enforcer culture and customs. If you're going to keep seeing him, know your subject," Ratchet suggested.

"Right. Thanks." Jazz nodded, processor already cataloguing the resources he had at his disposal based on how helpful they would be in helping him to comfort and possibly reach Prowl. "Already know wing massage helps. I'll see what else I can find."

"Contracts, explicit clarity in communication and being a law abiding citizen," Ratchet suggested with a bit of a smirk. "They're a weird type."

"Yeah, well, I think he already knows I'm not the last, so hopefully we're past that one." Jazz said as he jumped to his feet. "The rest I think I can work with."

Ratchet nodded and waved him off even as he began to amend both their medical records to include the new data.

* * *

The room was relatively small and private, well suited to its purpose for the orn, Jazz decided as he stood back in the corner and waited for Prowl to arrive.

The Enforcer had managed to avoid the Praxian survivor meetings. Until now. His tardiness had caught the attention of his superior, and as the head of tactical Sonar had the clout and authority to order Prowl to attend.

Sonar had said it was for Prowl's own good when he handed down the orders, but Jazz had his doubts. The tactician was manipulative, and borderline cruel to his subordinates sometimes. Jazz suspected it was being used more as 'motivation' to Prowl to perform by rubbing the failure to save more than a handful of Praxians from deactivation in Prowl's faceplates. Never mind that the reason Prowl couldn't perform was because he was asked to do the impossible.

Regardless, the order was valid and Prowl didn't say a word against it, not even a doorwing quiver. Jazz knew better even if he hadn't been told though. So he made time to be there, in a shadowed corner, and watched the other survivors filter in. Most he knew by frame and designation by now, though none of them well. The gray and black was Bluestreak, and he was never quiet. It was trauma-babbling though, and everyone knew it. It kept the poor mecha's processor's off what he'd been through. The gaudily colored red, blue and white one was Smokescreen, and Jazz had bets going he'd land in Tactical or SpecOps if he survived long enough. There was a bruiser of a Praxian tank, Bounceback, which did still have what looked a lot like doorwings and was already training to join the infantry. 

And there was Prowl, right on time. His finish flawless, his frame language stiff and formal, and his doorwings almost 2/3 of the way down. He looked like he was at a funeral for family. In a way, Jazz supposed he was, most of his attention on Prowl as the rest of the mecha filed in. A pair of civilians, shop owners with no shop any more. One of them had started working in supplies, earning an income and a place for both of them. Budget and Allocate, if he recalled correctly.

Traction was a frame specialist and medical, bold red and white complimented Prowl nicely as he moved to greet the other Praxian. Jazz knew that Ratchet had picked the other medic's processors thoroughly several times over already in an attempt to compile a database on Praxian particulars before the knowledge was potentially lost.

"You!" a voice that Jazz wasn't familiar with exploded with outrage by the door. "How _dare_ you come here! You're the reason Praxus deactivated!"

Prowl turned to look at the pair that had entered and simply lowered his doorwings further in acceptance of the accusation. A ripple spread through the room, some of the survivors reacting with shock at the accusation, some with apparent agreement. Traction scowled, moving to shield Prowl somewhat from the attack, while the civilian pair looked on, their own optics full of hurt and agreement.

Prowl gave the medic a small touch and shake of his helm. "Let them. I am to blame."

Jazz's frame went stiff with denial, his reaction a silent reflection of Traction's much more vocal one. "You are not. No more than I am when I could not pull more of them back from deactivating. "

"It was my function to predict what was coming and provide a way to stop it. I failed at both. I failed again when the attack came an I could not provide a plan to stop the destruction and slaughter," Prowl said simply. "So yes, it is my fault, quite directly, for Praxus being lost."

"We all lost." Traction said, still standing between Prowl and his accusers. "If you want to take part of the blame, fine, but you were not the only one on duty, nor were you the only one responsible for the protection of the city."

Jazz knew he wasn't supposed to be able to listen in on the comm ping Prowl sent next, but he did out of habit.

::Traction, they need someone, something available to them to blame. Better me than Prime.::

He could see the medic hesitate, could see him weighing all the options in his processors, could see him reaching the same conclusions that Prowl had already reached. It went against Traction's own beliefs, and his desire to protect a mech that he knew had done everything in his power- was really unable to have done anything else- to save them all, and still fallen short.

Slowly he moved back, no longer standing between Prowl and his enemies, but moving in such a way that he still projected support for the self-sacrificing mech.

Despite the words Prowl had used, Jazz couldn't help but wonder how much was with the intent to help those who needed a target and how much was to hear others say what he believed himself. How much did Prowl want to be blamed, to be hurt, because he was being forced to live?

The dark patterned Praxian stalked towards Prowl, sensors wings spread full and wide in an aggressive display, driven by grief and rage thick enough in his field for the whole room to teek. "Been hiding, since Praxus was destroyed, avoiding those who would call you out for what you are? Failure. _Murderer_."

Prowl made no effort to defend himself. His doorwings dropped as low as regret and apology allowed; any lower and it would be spark-guttering grief and the wrong message for this place and time. He simply took the verbal abuse as truth, and it was hard even for Jazz to see anything other than belief and agreement in the black and white frame.

"Don't you have _anything_ to say for yourself, traitor?" the dark mech snarled, then lunched. Jazz was surprised that it wasn't a punch to the face, but somehow he doubted any of the Praxians were surprised that one of Prowl's nearly-folded doorwings was grabbed and yanked hard to spin Prowl around, then twisted to force it into cracking.

"Enough." Traction growled as Prowl let out a choked sound of raw pain and went down. The frame specialist stepped between them as the dark mech released the doorwing on his demand. "I did not help repair your frame that you might do damage to another, Alleyway. Say what you will, but for the grace of Primus, hands off."

Jazz focused on Prowl's kneeling, shaking frame as Alleyway backed off with a frustrated snarl. The mech was in agony, that much was clear in his trembling, but he didn't make a sound.

Traction turned to face Prowl, then grabbed his arm. "You are going to medical. Now."

Prowl made no objection, verbal or by resisting, and Jazz was fairly sure just managing his pain was why. Prowl probably didn't have enough processor left to do anything else.

The smaller mech slipped from the corner he had been hiding in, following the pair of Praxians from the room and coming up on Prowl's other side once they were out the door.

"Let me help?" He offered, moving close enough to help support the other mech.

"Thank you," Traction accepted the help, and while Prowl didn't say anything, he willingly leaned into Jazz's hands as he began to tremble a little harder. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Grief makes mecha do crazy things. We aren't normally so violent."

"That was a message too, wasn't it, the way he hurt Prowl?" Jazz asked as he reached around Prowl's back, turning on the magnets in his hand and slowly running it around Prowl's wing base as he supported the Praxian.

Traction's doorwings quivered. "Yes. He was trying to remove what makes Prowl Praxian. As you could see with Bounceback, even those who do not have doors in their alt mode have doorwings."

"How long to fix it and heal?" Jazz asked, glancing at the wing as they neared medical and could already hear Ratchet bellowing orders.

"A couple joors to an orn to repair, four to six orns to fully integrate. Though he won't be in pain after it's repaired. Just a bit unsteady," Traction explained. "It's still attached, so the truly fiddly repairs aren't going to be needed."

Jazz nodded, helping Prowl into the medical ward and face down onto a berth, surprised at the amount of tension that drained out of his frame as Prowl was dropped into a light stasis.

"Going to make sure he's not forced to attend any more of those meetings?" Jazz asked as he stepped to the side, allowing the Ratchet to start working.

"Damn right," Ratchet growled from where he was pulling up schematics as he capped off oozing energon lines and sparking wires. "This is one thing where I can definitely pull the rug out from under Sonar. Glitch should have never been allowed to order it. Sick bastard."

"Really 'not in Prowl's best interest'?" Jazz questioned as he hopped up on a cabinet, an out of the way place that offered him a full view of the Prowl's back and the work the medics were doing.

"Hardly," Ratchet growled, though it never once entered his field or disrupted his actions. "He's a social sadist who doesn't belong in command of a turbopuppy, much less mecha and life and death situations."

"So those sensor wings...they're a big deal in Praxus? Beyond just the frame type." Jazz asked, looking down at Traction.

"They're a third of our language and half our sensor input," Traction told him. "Beyond that, they are the defining feature of our city. Without them, you are not a native."

"So Alleyway was trying to make a point, by removing what makes Prowl Praxian?" Jazz asked, working on connecting the dots in his processor.

"To strip away a Praxian's doorwings is to strip away their citizenship in the most visible manner possible," Traction nodded with a quiver of his doorwings. "For traitors, it is worse than a public execution. Yes, he was trying to make a very serious point with word and deed."

"Never mind the insanity and suicide that would inevitably follow," Ratchet grumbled.

Since the mech didn't seem bothered by the questions while he worked, Jazz decided to continue pumping the Praxian for info. "So, Praxian Enforcers, what's the deal with all the control programming?"

"To avoid corruption, excessive violence, intentional false arrests, to maintain citizen confidence in the institution and to keep them from being a force against the city," Traction rattled off easily.

"And force them to deactivate when they fail?" Jazz added, tone turning dark.

The frame specialist glanced up with a slightly confused look before he worked out that train of thought. "Oh, no, nothing like that. You're thinking two things are related when they aren't. Taking a Praxian's doorwings is a slow, painful death sentence as well as a public statement of their worth and crimes. What Alleyway did to Prowl was an act of anger, not a political or legal statement. It had nothing to do with Prowl's coding."

"I'm not talking about what Alleyway wanted. I'm talking about what Prowl _wants_." Jazz sighed. "He wants to be here even less than he wanted to go to that meeting."

Traction's hands didn't pause, but his processor seemed to stall briefly.

"Something about not wanting to outlive his duty," Ratchet grumbled.

"Umm, Jazz, with all due respect, do you really believe the coding was put in place thinking what happened was even a possibility?" Traction finally asked. "Be serious. Not wanting to outlive your duty is an incredibly broad concept. He'd have to have _no one_ from Praxus capable of looking to for it to kick in. No nobles. No royals. No Enforcers to lead or follow. No one even peripherally linked to the Enforcers to look to." He stilled for a while. "I wouldn't be so sure it's his coding that wants him to shut down."

"It's his coding that demands he continue, because Prime ordered it," Ratchet spoke up.

"Then grief is grief. Less than half of those who survived the attack wanted to live without their city and people enough to continue on to this orn. I'm not sure all those in the meeting will survive the loss to a vorn," Traction pointed out. "Prowl was of high rank, with some genuine responsibility. I can't blame him for not wanting to face failing his city and people no matter what other aspects played into the attack."

That left Jazz thinking, and actually with the first inkling of _hope_. "So there's a chance he might be talked out of that desire? It's not something that he _has_ to do?"

"I can't say I know the details of his coding, but it sounds a lot more like he's grieving and blaming himself, purely emotional reactions, than his code demanding he deactivate. Coding can't demand one continue and deactivate at the same time."

Ratchet snorted at that. "Sure it can. I just doubt it is this time." He looked over at Jazz. "Try to remember that Prowl has never had any purpose other than to serve Praxus. No Praxus, nothing to serve, no function, no point in going on. Even you can follow that logic trail, agree with it or not."

"Oh I can follow. Right up to the point that if we can get him to believe in a new purpose, he might keep going." Jazz responded, processor spinning as he created a new task file.

"I'm open to suggestions," Ratchet said to the universe in general.

"Prime ordered him to continue, and to serve as a tactician?" Traction asked carefully.

"Yeah, much to Prowl's displeasure," Ratchet nodded.

Traction thought for the better part of a breem. "Start with finding him a new home city, a new territory to associate with, but more than anything, he needs a new _unit_. Mecha who share his function and territory and dedication. Enforcers are typically assigned to a single precinct for life. If they do move, it's to be promoted, which means their territory gets bigger, rather than moved. Long term, he probably needs to have a territory as well as a command structure to function well. If he was as happy with his former life as has been implied, it won't be easy." He glanced around and sighed. "If this was Praxus and an Enforcer was damaged this badly, there'd be a block of them watching and waiting for permission to be close enough to teek. They're a very tight-knit group. Closer than most families."

"So I can stay until he wakes up? Mech at least seems to tolerate me, more than anyone else." Jazz said, knowing that get his self-appointed task cleared with his higher-ups would be easy. Prowl was already labeled a high value resource. The list of what would be sacrificed in the name of keeping him sane and functional was long, and the time of one low level agent was pretty much at the bottom.

"It would likely be good for him," Traction gave a glance at Ratchet, who was the actual determining opinion.

The CMO nodded. "Just stay out of the way. Mech needs a friend."

Traction cocked his helm. "You know, I never heard of an Enforcer referred to or referring to a friend."

"He's never called me one, but he drinks the energon I bring, chats with me in his office, and will actually acknowledge me when we pass in the hall. So I'm probably the closest thing he's got." Jazz informed the medic from his perch. "I'd call him friend, but I get the feeling it'd just confuse him."

"It might," Traction murmured. "Though I expect if you can create a definition of 'friend' that could hold up in a court of law he'd likely understand that. Enforcers are beings of law and order. I expect they're good at integrating legal definitions and changes."

"I'll work on that." Jazz promised, pleased at having things that could work to work on, especially since he had no idea how long he was going to be waiting here. "How much did you work with the Enforcers in Praxus?"

"Not that much, honestly. They usually rely on in-house medics for their needs, but when many were damaged at once I was on the list of those who'd taken the training to work on them," Traction explained. "Once or twice a vorn I'd usually be called in to work on them."

"Ah. I was hoping on more insight on how to work with him." Jazz sighed. "Public access info on Praxian Enforcers is easy enough to get. Actual insight into the culture that they created for themselves? Not so much."

"Have you tried asking?" Traction asked. "I've found that most Enforcers are very free with information when directly and politely requested unless it shouldn't be shared for legal reasons. Though given Prowl's rank and function, he might have more of that than most."

"I've asked here and there. Though from what he has said, Prowl was something of a loner by nature. I guess he started functioning as a hunter, and was promoted from there." Jazz explained.

Traction's hands jerked back sharply with a gasp that nearly took him a step away from the table.

"Hay! What the pit!" Ratchet snapped at him. "Patient."

"Right. Right. Patient," Traction mumbled and moved to go back to work, but it was painfully clear he was far less comfortable. "Sorry ... hunter." He shuddered.

Jazz frowned at the reaction. "Detective, hunter, something like that. Is there something I should know?"

"You're an Autobot, so it probably wouldn't bother you much," Traction focused on his hands and what he was repairing. "They're killers. Assassins. That's what they do."

"Reeeeeeeeeeealy?" Jazz purred, looking at Prowl in a whole new light, and not terribly upset about what he was seeing. If it was true, many of the things about his current functioning that he had feared the Praxian might hold against him were no longer relevant.

Traction gave Jazz a glance. "What did he say it was?"

"He didn't really go into detail, and when that came up I was more interested in finding out his views on relationships and how things worked in the Enforcers than specifics about his function. He also seemed to consider it somewhat irrelevant, since it is was he was before he was promoted to tactician/coordinator." Jazz said.

Traction nodded and fell silence, but now Ratchet was interested. "What did you learn?"

"That Prowl worked by himself by choice. That he didn't feel as though there was anyone that could offer him anything as part of a team. That the promotion came as the result of something of an accidental discovery of his skills. Apparently he did a lot of on-the-spot coordinating during that planet-wide quake a few centuries ago." Jazz explained. He was quiet for a klik as he replayed that conversation in his helm, and added softly. "He informed me that he did not miss his original functioning. I don't think he was being completely honest."

"He wasn't, not if he was called correctly," Ratchet huffed. "Neither here nor there, but interesting."

* * *

Prowl's gaze was fixed on the same line of the same report that it had been on for most of a joor. His processors were in shambles as his tac-net and emotional protocols settled on agreeing to disagree, but only on about half of his reaction. The other half they did agree on, but it wasn't the half that mattered to Prowl. He didn't know how to react to this new information, even as his tac-net pointed out that it shouldn't be a surprise.

Still, the fact that Jazz was directly responsible for his current situation was a daunting one to overcome. He didn't want it to matter, but it did. He hated his current situation too much for it not to matter. He was still staring at the report as the mech it mentioned strode into his office, whistling cheerfully and carrying a cube of energon in each hand.

The whistling stopped as soon as Jazz noticed the state that Prowl was in. He approached the desk, setting Prowl's cube in Praxian's reach as his field reached out in a familiar attempt to teek the Praxian's. "Ya got that look on your faceplates. What's wrong?"

"You found me. You kept my spark stable until a medic arrived," Prowl didn't look up, his field a mirror of how tangled his emotions were. "You're the reason I'm here and not with Praxus."

Jazz almost argued with the Praxian. It was truth that he had only been following orders. That he hadn't known at the time that the mech he thought he was saving he was really condemning to a function full of emotional pain and suffering.

But he couldn't. Not to the mech that he has personally started to consider a friend.

"Yeah. It's my fault you're here," Jazz answered quietly instead.

"You thought you were helping me?" Prowl managed the briefest of glances up before fixating on the report in his hands.

"Well-yeah." Jazz frowned, confused. "Your spark was still bright. Most mecha don't _want_ to go back to the Well, not in the prime of functioning."

"I suppose that is fair. I'm not like most mecha," Prowl shuddered with a wash of pain-frustration-hate through his field. It was a crackling touch, but it was anything but pleasant for Jazz to teek. Yet once it passed, Prowl was calmer. "Is that connection what first brought you here?"

"Part of it. The other part was me being curious. Part of my nature, yah know." Jazz offered with a bit of a shrug, working to keep his own field open and neutral.

"Part of you job?" Prowl looked up and this time held Jazz's gaze.

"The curious part? Nah. That's just me. Never met a Praxian Enforcer before. Wanted to see what they were like." Jazz replied. "The keepin' you alive part- part of my orders was to keep an optic out for survivors and assist them."

"Is it part of your current duties to spend time with me?" Prowl asked more explicitly.

"When I'm on duty? Sometimes, since I ask for it. After shifts, like now? No. I just like being around you." The answer was honest. Sometimes Jazz was ordered to be around Prowl, but he was starting to like the Praxian for who he was- an interesting, if stubborn and confusing puzzle.

Prowl nodded slightly and relaxed a bit more. "What are your ultimate intentions for us?"

Jazz stopped, thinking about that since he really hadn't put much thought into it before. Checking in on Prowl had been curiosity at first, then continued without much consideration because he was interested and he liked it. That his superiors were very pleased with the results and made it easy for him to continue was just a bonus. "Well, I'd kinda like to be friends. I like being around ya, when we're both not workin'."

Prowl nodded again, finally set the datapad down as he met Jazz's gaze through the visor. "I will need time to process what I have learned."

"Ok. Sure." Jazz shrugged, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. He wasn't sure where it was going, but he found himself hoping more than he probably should that it wasn't going to end in good-bye. "Fuel." He added, as he turned to go.

"I will," Prowl promised as he picked the cube up. "Thank you."

* * *

Though Jazz sent energon via Ratchet once an orn, and Ratchet actually stayed to chat about the base and its mecha, particularly Sonar, by the fourth orn Prowl was beginning to miss Jazz's company. He wasn't ready to hunt the mech down yet, after all, Jazz might be on a mission, but he was getting ready to find out if Jazz was on base at least. He had what he wanted to say and do all planned out. He was ready.

Just not quite ready to track the mech down.

The fifth orn after the revelation of who had saved his spark long enough for help to arrive he was spared the effort. It was not Ratchet who requested admittance to his office five kliks after Prowl's shift was over, but a smaller black and white mech with a familiar smile and two glowing cubes of energon.

"May I stay?" Jazz asked as he placed Prowl's cube on the desk, fully prepared to depart if Prowl wasn't ready for him to be around yet.

"Yes. Please do," Prowl motioned to the chair across from him and picked up the cube he'd been offered. He took a sip without questioning it. "I've processed all I need to."

"I'm guessing since I'm allowed to stay your not too mad at me." Jazz said, making himself comfortable as he sprawled in the second chair in Prowl's office.

"No," Prowl shook his helm. "I knew I would not be too angry at you before you left. I did have to process the emotions before I would be ready for your company again, however." Doorwings twitched nervously and Prowl took another sip of the sweet energon before he allowed a pleasured x-vent to escape. "I admit I am woefully uninformed about how much knowledge of Enforcer culture is available to you, and I have difficulty understanding the fluidity of kindled relationships. I have come to an understanding that there are concessions I need from kindled mecha to cope with what you are." Prowl's gaze locked with Jazz's. "This is not a comment on your way of doing things. I need some things to be done according to how I was socialized. Does that make sense?"

"You need me to adapt to your way of doin' things if this is going to work." Jazz summed up calmly. "I'm listening. What do you want?"

"Among sparked mecha in general, and law enforcement in particular, is it expected that all relationships are governed by contracts. We have one with the city that ordered our creation, and we adapted that format to a personal level," Prowl said as he brought out a legal datapad set of three. "Every Enforcer had a standing contract on file that governed how they expected to be treated by others. It was how one dealt with an Enforcer one did not know. As we came to understand each other, most would create individual contracts allowing specific privileges to specific individuals. It was all filed, legal and public record, at least to other Enforcers. Whatever we are, whatever you hope of to become in the next few vorns, I need the contract written and abided by."

Prowl paused and drew in a steadying breath. "It can be amended at any point so long as we both sign the amendment."

Jazz leaned forward, hand hovering over one of the datapads until Prowl nodded approval. With a smooth motion Jazz picked it up and started looking it over. "So exactly how detailed does this get?" He asked quietly, "Does every little thing have to be hammered out, or is some of it more broad?"

"It is a combination, and it depends on how intimate we are intending to become," Prowl found it much more difficult to explain than he anticipated. "Why don't we begin with some basics. How much of my off-duty time do you wish to have?"

"Whatever you feel like you are willing to give me." Jazz answered easily. "Mine can change on no notice, ya understand."

"Jazz, please try to work with me here," Prowl sighed and stroked his chevron's shield. "I understand what you are trying to say, but it is not what I asked. How much do you _want_. Do not consider factors such as duties and unpredictable scheduling."

"A joor every orn?" Jazz finally asked after he thought about it. "The time when we have been refueling together, at least."

Prowl nodded and began entering data in his datapad, which soon appeared on Jazz's. "What types of activities do you wish to do with me?"

"Chat, refuel, I have permission for you to go out on drives as long as you are accompanied by an approved escort, if you're interested." Jazz rattled off. "I like music, if you are in to that sort of thing."

Prowl was still typing when one glyph fully penetrated his processors and he froze. He looked up as his doorwings quivered. "Drive?" His voice remained level, but his frame said a lot about how much he wanted it. "Who is approved?"

"Me, for one." Jazz replied, then pinged Prowl a short list of designations. "Or anyone else on that list I just sent you. It's not long yet, but maybe with time others can be added."

Prowl nodded with another eager quiver of his doorwings. "Would you be agreeable to spending additional time with me driving, after our evening energon? Upwards of two joors?"

The eagerness in the request caught Jazz off-guard, even though he had been warned about the potential response from the Praxian. "As often as I can, yeah, sure." He replied easily.

"Thank you," Prowl's doorwings gave an eager quiver, and Jazz got the distinct impression that only Prowl's work ethic kept him in his seat to finish what they had started. "What activities are not acceptable to suggest doing?"

"Anything related to _work_." Jazz spat out in a nanoklik. "Down time is down time, and I don't wanna be anywhere near a report, a commanding officer, or a chore when I have time to enjoy myself. Other than that I'm pretty open. I like explorin' new things."

"This," Prowl motioned around the office, "is not work related for you?"

"Nah. This is spending time with a friend. Unless I'm gonna have to hammer out a contract every orn." Jazz suddenly looked pleading. "Please tell me I'm not going to have to do this every orn."

"No," Prowl was quick to reassure him. "Once we finish this, there should few instances where we will need to revisit it. Is there potential for us to interface?"

That question earned several kliks of consideration from Jazz. "How do Enforcers view recreational interfacing?" He finally asked, seeking a little more information before trying to reach any sort of decision.

"It builds social bonds, burns off charge and stress and is generally something healthy mecha should engage in," Prowl summed it up. "How emotional it is is dependent on the mecha involved and their relationships. So long as all abide by the contracts involved, it is rare to cause a problem."

"I'm game. I like having my circuits blown every now and then. Just wanted to make sure you thought the same." Jazz smiled, helm tilted to side as he studied Prowl's frame from a different angle, his processor already starting to wonder how the Praxian would react to that touch or this stimulus.

"Then what kinks are you unwilling to indulge, and what do you enjoy?" Prowl asked, seemingly at ease with the subject.

"No intentional damage, no _pain_. Not a huge fan of humiliation either. Interfacing should be fun, and there is enough of that bad in functioning. It can stay there." Jazz said seriously. "Other than that I'm pretty open. Role-play, bondage, straight out pound-your-partner into recharge- it's all good."

Prowl twitched his doorwings in acknowledgement and smiled with a hint of relief. "While I became skilled at all three to help my unit, I am pleased you do not find them enjoyable or needed. We agree on them remaining in the realm of duty and bad things that must be done for the greater good. I am not fond of role-play, myself. My programming has difficulty supporting the suspension of disbelief it requires to be enjoyable. Light bondage and interfacing into recharge are both very enjoyable. I have a very strong voyeur kink, particularly when the goal is to rile me to the point of breaking my will to stay out of it. However that, hunting and more serious bondage tends to be outside the casual interfacing clause. It is important I have a stronger emotional connection and safety can be an issue. Do you have any preferences on type? Hardline, spike, valve, tactile, field play, spark, something more exotic?"

"Is role-play difficult if it is something related to your function?" Jazz asked, momentarily distracted from Prowl's question by one of his own. "Like acting as a commanding officer or an interrogator?"

Prowl considered it for a long moment. "I believe that would be much simpler. It would still confuse my tac-net, but not as badly as asking it to grasp me acting out of character."

"I'll keep that in mind." Jazz promised. "As for the rest of it- I like everything that you listed. Spike, valve, and tactile/field are some of my favorites. Spark is like your more hard bondage- I have trust issues there."

"Understandable. I have learned some things about kindled society. It seems you guard your sparks much more closely than we do ours," Prowl commented. "Though we are also free of any fear that it might be dangerous. No Enforcer could ever intentionally harm another's duty worthiness without explicit legal permission from a superior of at least shift commander status. I perceive no reason why limiting any potential interfacing to spike, valve, tactile and field will be an issue." He paused. "There is something important to remember about this contract. Anything not specifically permitted must be negotiated into the contract first. I will not, can not, do so while in the moment. If you desire to try something we have not discussed, it is very important that you bring it up before we begin anything."

"Okay." Jazz agreed, scrolling through the contract that had been composed so far. "This has all the basics, which is a good place to start. If we decide to take it farther, we can talk about it later."

He paused, taking some time to think of other questions. "If I decide to 'surprise' you with something during our time together, what is too much? Like- say we're out driving and I get the hankering to stop at a little place I know of for energon and invite you along? Or get my hands on some treats and a vid to watch, and suggest a change of plans?"

"So long as I have the option to decline, I have no problem with that. If the activities themselves are within the negotiated limits, suggesting one on a whim is not an issue," Prowl told him. "Issues arise when one goes outside what have been agreed upon as acceptable behavior. Suggesting something to do is not."

"And all of those are acceptable." Jazz purred happily. "What else do we need to settle?"

"What is your definition of a friend?" Prowl asked. "In the context of a contract such as this one, what do you include?"

"A friend is someone I like spending time with. A good friend is a mech I trust to some degree- I can talk with them, recharge around them and with them. What we've agreed to here would make you a good friend." Jazz tried to explain, trying to draw a parallel that would make sense to Prowl.

Prowl nodded slowly, processing that and turning it over several times. "I would say that your definition of good friend is close to what I classify as my unit. There are definite differences, but the similarities are far more significant."

"What are the differences?" Jazz asked, curious.

"The most significant is that all Enforcers share a common culture, coding, upbringing and purpose. The same cannot be said of kindled mecha, even when all are from the same clade, much less the situation between us. Views on spark merging is tied into that, as well as things such as the contracts," Prowl explained. "I am sure we will have moments where those differences will cause problems, simply because there are assumptions so basic to each of us that we do not perceive them for what they are."

"Sure we will. Knowing that they're coming will make it easier though." Jazz laughed. He was sure that there were going to be times when both of them were ready to rip the other one apart if this continued on, but it was a challenge. And Jazz had to admit, he liked a good challenge. That the challenge had good looks and was agreeable to a roll in the berth for fun were just greater plusses.

That was fun, finishing the fiddly details of the contract were not. It seemed to take forever, but when Prowl finally asked if there was anything Jazz wished to add or talk about, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his spark at making so much progress.


	3. Friends and Lovers

It was half a vorn into their official contract of friendship, and Jazz was very thankful that he had found Prowl and made the effort to track down the mech that had caught his attention from the beginning. The Praxian was intelligent and sharp. When you approached him in a way he understood Prowl was actually a very agreeable mech to be around. He could and would talk about hundreds of things from a wide variety of subjects, and even when he didn't know much, he was happy to listen and talk about the logic of it or other details that he could understand quickly. He was even happy to play games, though Jazz quickly learned that if it involved any form of skill or tactics that he was seriously outclassed.

On top of all that, Prowl was very attractive to look at and watch. Many pairs of optics were trained on the contest taking place in the middle of the training room, though Jazz really only had optics for one particular Praxian. This was the first time he'd watched Prowl display any of the martial training that Jazz belatedly realized he must have, given his first function. Now he was showing that skill off for all to see and understand that desk-bound or not, one did not underestimate a Praxian Enforcer.

The mech was _fast_. He was accurate. But what seemed to shock most was how utterly ruthless he was. Prowl never broke a single rule, but he pushed them to the very limit without shame.

Jazz's engine rumbled with pleasure as Prowl faced off against his next opponent, the aggression of the Praxian in this mode turning Jazz on in a way that few things could. Prowl was good enough to be an elite frontliner, and yet he wasn't because those skills were among his least valuable. Yet at least to Jazz's well-trained optic, Prowl really enjoyed this, he enjoyed the contest and pushing himself. Jazz couldn't help but grin when the audience was as shocked as Prowl's opponent when a blow hard enough to send Prowl sprawling didn't result in the Praxian yielding or even crying out in pain. Jazz saw every other mecha with wings wince them in sympathy, but Prowl leapt to his pedes and fought on like it was nothing.

He was going to have to quiz the mech on how he did that. And see if Prowl was agreeable to adding sparring to their list of shared time activities.

The smooth precision that Prowl took his opponents down with was something to watch as well. Jazz could tell when his competition was a mech that Prowl was familiar with, and one that was unknown. With the unknown the Praxian had to spend several more moves to get a feel for, then take down, his opponent.

That skill and the processor to rapidly assess massive amounts of data took him all the way to the semi-finals and a face-off against Springer. Now this was a match that everyone was watching.

Jazz slipped through the crowd, closer to the ring and his friend. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had been awarded that honor, and he wanted to be there to cheer on Prowl. He had no doubt it was going to be a tough fight, the triple changer was bigger, taller, more heavily armored and just as fast as Prowl, and he had a long lifetime of real world combat experience on battlefields across the galaxy. It was hardened warrior against martial artist, and the warrior had far more mecha cheering for him.

The first strikes exchanged were avoided, each mech aware of the other's skill to some extent. From there it evolved into the match of the orn though. Both were quick and brutal, neither willingly giving any advantage. Jazz had been watching long enough to see when Prowl started to lose ground. To Prowl's credit, at least among the warriors, even as he was losing Prowl gave nearly as good as he got. In real combat, it was the kind of attitude that earned you friends and allies along with respect.

It wasn't until the larger mech had Prowl solidly pinned that Prowl yielded, and that was in the rules.

Jazz could feel a new level of respect for Prowl from those around him as the Praxian left the ring, though Jazz was still the only one who moved to greet him. "Ready to get cleaned up?"

"Very ready," Prowl nodded as he stretched and flexed his armor and cabling to settle it all back where it belonged. "It's been a very enjoyable orn off duty."

"For more than one mech." Jazz laughed as he led Prowl to the washrack, his field warm with more than just friendship as the pair entered the mostly empty area. That Prowl teeked as lightly aroused caused just a bit of extra burn in Jazz's frame. "I think you might have earned yourself some admirers today." Jazz added as he stopped to gather the solvent Prowl liked, and the special brushes for mecha with wings and large external sensor units.

"Hopefully that means they will listen and obey me when I begin to give battlefield orders," Prowl commented as he turned on the solvent and stood under the hot spray with a low groan.

"You've proven that you can handle yourself in a fight. That will go a long way with some." Jazz agreed as he moved behind Prowl and started scrubbing at the Praxian's sensor wings. It had taken several attempts and some grumbling from the Praxian before Jazz had figured out the best way to help Prowl clean, but any more he could make the Praxian melt almost as fast as the hot solvent.

"That was my calculation. I'm not some clueless desk driver. I've been on the front lines, without support. It won't be enough for all, but the most difficult are often those who object to taking orders from those they don't believe understand what combat is," Prowl said as he unlocked his armor articulation from default so the solvent could easily slid under it and wash away the free energon, lubricant, oil and grease that the fights and simple existence generated. His doorwings flattened outward, offing the surface to Jazz.

"And you get nothing from putting on a show as well?" Jazz purred, sliding against Prowl's back for a moment, field flaring suggestively. 

Prowl's field flared back and he pressed into the touch. "I do enjoy a good sparring match." He chuckled in the brief pause. "I enjoy a good contest."

"What sort of contests? We've already established that I'm no match for you when it comes to strategy games. Driving we're almost an even match." Jazz mused as went back to scrubbing, skilled hands removing the orn's accumulation of dirt in the armor creases of Prowl's back and thighs.

"Racing, sparring, board, electronic and card strategy games, debate," Prowl rattled off. "You're competitive as well?"

"When I'm in the right mood." Jazz said, hand _accidentally_ slipping brush Prowl's valve cover, causing his engine to rev. "And for the right sort of thing, I can be very competitive."

"Careful, after losing I'm very much a spike mech," Prowl warned playfully. "You'll have to pin me for that this orn."

"I have no objection to taking it- if I end up on the bottom." Jazz purred, slipping around the Praxian to scrub at Prowl's chest. "Either way I'll still be the winner."

"I'm glad you think that way," Prowl ran his hands along Jazz's sides before drawing him close and claiming a kiss, strong and demanding as his glossa slid along Jazz's lips plates. Lips plates that parted willing for him, Jazz's glossa slipping out to tease Prowl's, brush and scrub forgotten in the moment as their frames heated and rubbed against each other.

With a swift move, Prowl turned the solvent off and pushed Jazz against the wall. One hand grabbed under a knee and pulled it up as Prowl's spike cover snapped open. Jazz growled and struggled, slipping to one side and almost managing to slide free before Prowl pinned him again.

"Mine," Prowl growled hotly against Jazz's mouth as he rubbed his pressurizing spike between Jazz's legs.

"This time." Jazz conceded, valve cover sliding back and allowing hot lubricant to drip onto the pressurized spike as Jazz reached up to grab Prowl's helm for another heated kiss that turned into a mutual moan of need. Without hesitation Prowl pulled Jazz's leg up a bit further and easily slid into the slick, hot, quivering opening between them.

Pleasure surged through Prowl's field, but also relief and _need_ that spoke of a mecha used to lovers that hadn't had one in far too long. He sank all the way in, nearly hilting himself before the angle stopped him, then pulled back just as slowly to savor the sensations.

The relief and need were met with open willingness, the hot valve grasping at his spike. "Very nice." Jazz purred, the praise sincere as he reached over the Praxian's shoulder to stroke one of the sensor wings had been scrubbing so carefully just a few kliks before. Prowl gasped and shifted both frame and wing to press more of it into that touch. It made his thrusts a bit less deep, but filled his field with rich pleasure.

"Turn on for you?" Jazz asked, shuddering with each thrust as his field pushed back with pleasure at his own. "You were so hot in the ring, the way you took those mecha down. No mercy."

"There is no mercy in war," Prowl gasped out as his charge surged. "Doorwings, flight wings ... they're incredibly sensor rich. So much tactile and sensory data...."

"So feel good for you, turn on for _me_." Jazz decided as he put both arms over Prowl's shoulders. The change brought duel benefits- allowing Jazz to reach both sensor wings and changing the angle between them once more, letting the Praxian drive deeper into his lover.

It was the end of the talking for Prowl. With a shivering grunt he began to thrust in a deep, hard rhythm, completely focused on chasing his overload and driving Jazz's.

The change was welcomed, Jazz's field flaring out to slam into Prowl with how much Jazz actually enjoyed being taken like this. Disjointed words were whispered into the Praxian's audial where Jazz's face was buried against his lover's neck and shoulder, arms locked around Prowl as he went along for the ride.

Prowl's engine gave a roar and Jazz heard the click of his vocalizer being turned off. The next thrust came with a pulse of thick transfluid that crackled against even the deepest nodes of Jazz's valve. Prowl was lost to his bliss in that moment, his doorwings flared up and out protectively, screening Jazz from spying optics while they danced with the energy cascading through Prowl's frame.

For a moment Jazz was caught off-guard, the sight before him capturing his full attention with the sheer beauty that was his lover in a full possessive overload.

The image was burned into his processor, then conscious thought was lost in roaring pleasure of his own, washing over and through him from so many sides there was no telling what came from where.

"That. Was. Good," Prowl panted into Jazz's audial as they came down, still entwined against the wall.

"I do usually aim to please." Jazz chuckled, nuzzling lazily at Prowl from where has draped against the mech. "And practice usually makes even good better."

Despite the words, his field radiated with utter contentment in the warm glow of the slow return to more normal levels of functioning, and spoke clearly of how pleasurable the encounter had been for him.

"Quite true," Prowl nuzzled him into a gentle kiss as they drew a bit apart. "Now we both need a wash."

"You mean I have to start all over again? What a shame." Jazz teased, smiling as he was settled back to the floor. "Better get to it."

"Hopefully you will select my quarters more often for such activities," Prowl chuckled and turned the solvent on again.

"No objection to getting presentable enough here and finishing it there." Jazz said, reveling in the invitation and almost giddy with happiness. This was turning into quite the orn.

* * *

The music playing in the background, the smooth high grade and the basket of crisp energon wafers, the bustle of city life going by- all of it made for a pleasant evening. Though all of it was still secondary to the company, Jazz decided, leaning back in his seat and watching Prowl watch those passing by. He was beginning to suspect being a voyeur was simply an offshoot of Prowl's fixation on watching people in general. Jazz liked to people watch, and he wasn't shy about the truth. He liked to know what was going on, practice his skills at reading mecha and was generally social. It was less obvious what Prowl got out of it, but it seemed likely that it was why Ops trained so hard to be good people watchers: it was an invaluable source of intel, and Jazz knew well how strong Prowl's tac-net's drive for data was.

Despite the optics on passers by, Prowl was keeping up with light chatting with Jazz easily enough, and he seemed to like the music, if the light movements of his doorwings were any indication.

"So how many betting pools have you been banned from now, with that tac-net of yours feeding you all the odds?" Jazz asked as he reached for another wafer and crunched it, enjoying the sharp bite of the seasoning.

"I have not technically been banned from any of them," Prowl's smile was a bit sly. "I comply with the regulations a given pool organizer has, or I do not bet with them. Most have learned to take advantage of my talent for working the odds."

That had Jazz laughing, blue optics glowing behind the visor that shielded them from easy viewing. "I can't imagine what a fortune you have lying around on the side. What did you do in the Enforcers to keep yourself busy?"

"Invested in the market, supported charities and the arts, indulged myself rather shamelessly in the luxuries I enjoy, and I raced," the last word came out with a deep, rumbling purr.

"Bet on yourself, did ya?" Jazz question, a shiver running through his frame at the tone of Prowl's voice with the last. 

"Occasionally," Prowl chuckled. "Not often though. On the racetrack I only average. I was designed for endurance and agility more than sprint speed."

"What sort of things did you do for yourself?" While most of Prowl had indulged himself with was likely out of Jazz's reach, the Praxian's pleasure whenever Jazz managed to surprise him with something he enjoyed was well worth the effort. And Jazz was always looking for ideas.

"A private hot oil pool deep enough to stand in and large enough for half a dozen Enforcers in a washrack larger than my entire quarters now. An apartment with a view of the entire city, fine art to decorate with, fine high grade and confections to enjoy," Prowl thought over what he spent his credits on for himself. "And I traveled. A lot. I wasn't created to stay in one city, much less an office, for long periods. When I could no longer travel extensively for my function, I did so for pleasure."

Jazz was momentarily disappointed. So much of what Prowl had enjoyed was beyond his ability to provide. Though he did make it a priority on his list of things to do to track down a high end oil pool, maybe find a spa that was still operating, and treat Prowl to it some time. If it was something he couldn't afford it would be beyond easy to wrangle the credits out of some fund or another for it.

"Where all did you travel? What was your favorite place to visit?" Even with all of the time they spent together, casual conversation like this still seemed to be a rarity, and Jazz was finding himself enjoying it.

"I made a point to visit every city at least once, and as much of the surrounding territory as possible," Prowl smiled warmly at memories from a different life. "Vos was amazing in so many ways, even if few citizen were happy to have a grounder there. I believe my favorite was wherever the Imperial Showcase was that cycle."

Jazz shook his helm, more than a little amazed. "Just how long have you been functioning?"

"Twenty four thousand, ninety-six vorns," Prowl supplied. 

"All of that, in so short a time..." Jazz murmured, clearly amazed.

Prowl trilled at him with a smile. "I traveled an average of a metacycle a vorn, but in small amounts. You'd be amazed how much travel one can manage when you can plan and set up things for your absence. My commanders tolerated it, and the occasional much longer vacation, because enough of them understood that hunter coding couldn't be scrubbed completely. It was let me travel, or watch me tear myself apart trying to comply with contradictory coding demands. They did it in smaller ways too, by looking the other way when I assigned myself patrol shifts or just went on patrol after shift. It made the office work tolerable for me."

Jazz nodded in understanding, still processing how much Prowl had seen and experienced, and in more than a little awe of the mech. "And how about now? How long can you stay in one place before that drive starts to push at you?"

Prowl went still to think about that and poke at the coding that made such demands. "I'm not sure," he eventually admitted. "The war, the genuine threat to my functioning by traveling, has altered many priority trees and subjugated coding that is normally dominant."

"Ah. Maybe traveling between bases and locations will be enough to keep it happy. Definitely something that you should mention to Ratchet, though." And something that was going to be reported to Jazz's own superiors as soon as they were back on base.

"I will," Prowl promised before sipping his high grade. "I did not consider that he might not already be aware of the quirks of hunter programming. It is better to be redundant with important information than to be caught unprepared."

"Traction might have shared it with him, but knowing Ratchet he'd rather be told twice then never at all." Jazz observed, field warming at Prowl's willingness, and he pushed the basket of wafers at the other. He smiled even more when Prowl took one without hesitation and nibbled on it.

Prowl smiled slyly again, a look that said something had just occurred to him. "I forgot to mention one favorite indulgence, largely because I only really did so while traveling. I enjoy tasting new cuisines and treats from all over. Much of my travel budget went to consumables."

"I'll keep that in mind." Jazz said as he motioned for Prowl to help himself to the rest of the basket and didn't completely hide the serge of excitement over something he could definitely accomplish. There were mecha from all over Cybertron and the former empire in Iacon. Even when a cuisine wasn't available to buy in a shop, one could find a mecha who'd make it for a few credits and the supplies. "Was there any thing in particular that you found that you _really_ liked?"

Prowl hummed between sips of his energon as he snacked on the wafers, though he did push the basket back to the middle of the table before taking his next one. "Kaon, regretfully. It was a mining and industrial city for a long time before it began to focus on gladiatorial combat. Their consumables are often heavy with minerals and highly spiced, the energon acidic in a way that cuts through the richness in a delightful way. One has to go back quite a ways in history to find when they were proud of something other than violence, but go to that point and their consumables were the product of a long history of hard work that paid well." He paused for a sip of energon. "Vos's consumables were also a favorite, and it was completely the opposite. High energy, light treats intended to give high performance flight frames plenty of energy without weighing them down."

"Interesting. For someone who likes planning, you sure do like the extreme and out of the ordinary." Jazz teased, more than a little fascinated by these insights.

"Because I sample them by planning and in a controlled way," Prowl pointed out with a slight smile. "The more I experience, the greater the extremes, the better prepared I am for when something happens I didn't anticipate or don't have protocols to cover."

"Makes a lot of sense, actually." Jazz had to agree after he thought about it for several kliks. "Was there something that prompted you to start doin' that?"

"Common sense?" Prowl suggested uncertainly. "Knowledge is the basis for all calculations. The greater one's knowledge, the more effective the calculations. That it translated to consumables as well as useful information is just a quirk of my coding."

Jazz waved a hand dismissively, smiling, his field warm. "I was just curious mech. It's good that you found something that let ya deal with your programming. All that code you have to deal with is enough to make my processor spin, and I don't have to function with it."

"I've never functioned without it. I expect I would have at least as much trouble without it as you might have with it," Prowl hummed thoughtfully, though he wasn't certain. "What do you enjoy to eat?"

"Not quite the extremes you do. I like savory solids, like the wafers, and something sweet to balance them if I am indulging in eating out. I prefer heavier fare to lighter things- though I will admit a weakness for just about anything covered in a good aged rust powder." Jazz smiled, then sighed as a alarm pinged quietly. "And it's time for us to head back before you are missed and I get my aft handed to me."

Prowl quickly finished the last couple mouthfuls of his drink and offered the last two wafers to Jazz as he stood, along with half a dozen other customers. Iacon was now a military city, its rhythms coming in line with the rules the Autobots lived by simply because so many of those with credits were Autobots. Only a handful of establishments stayed open much after it was time for the soldiers to head home.

* * *

A ping for admittance to his office drew Prowl's attention from his current project. A single glance was enough to identify the caller as someone who was well known, and might be there on official business.

Or not so official business. Smokescreen was the lead of most of the betting pools in Iacon's primary Autobot base, and the mech was not above using Prowl to get the best odds possible.

The partnership had proven so lucrative he had given up trying to talk Prowl down for the prices the mech charged for crunching the numbers.

"Official or unofficial business?" Prowl asked as he motioned the brightly colored Praxian in.

"Unofficial, and not business ... but promise you won't kill the messenger." Smokescreen said as he stepped in the door, his usual buoyant personality missing.

"I will not damage the messenger," Prowl promised even as his entire frame went tense. There were very, very few things that could generate that kind of concern from the gambler. Prowl knew he wasn't known as very social or friendly, but he'd never damaged another outside of combat.

"Your little Op friend? In case you didn't know he was missing, they just got him back. Ratchet has him down in medical, trying to keep his spark going while they put a frame back together around it." Smokescreen summed up, really not softening the news in any way. He watched a flurry of activity that culminated in roughly half a klik with Prowl's station turned off, his files and storage locked and himself sighed as off duty. Only then did the black and white Praxian stand, and it didn't take a lot of skill to tell that he was jacked up something fierce and only just maintaining a level of dignified movement by will alone.

"Thank you, Smokescreen," Prowl motioned the other out of his office and locked it once he'd stepped out as well. "I appreciate being informed."

"Welcome. I'll let you know if I hear anything else related to his...current condition." The other Praxian promised the retreating doorwings. Looking at Prowl, Smokescreen couldn't quite contain the shudder that ran through him. He didn't know who, but if that Ops mech was in half as bad of condition as he had heard, someone was going to pay. And pay big time. He knew Prowl wasn't programmed for personal vengeance, but he also knew that Enforcers were savagely effective in using legal amounts of force in retribution for harm to their own. Prowl had adopted Jazz into his unit; Smokescreen had bet heavily on it and now he was even more sure he was right.

When Prowl arrived in medbay it was strangely quiet and empty. That was bad, because only the most critical or important of patients went to a private surgery. He stood there briefly, quivering in distress, before he focused on picking out what room Jazz was in and how he could be close without getting in the way. There was one suite with more activity than the others, two aids entering and exiting in the short amount of time it took for Prowl to judge the situation. Two sets of optics glanced his direction, shifting from confusion to pity in a nanoklik as they went about their work.

He picked one that didn't seem to be rushing quite as much and stepped forward. "Is there an observation room?" he motioned to the surgery the aid had just come out of.

"No, but we were warned you'd be showing up as soon as you heard." The brightly patterned aid replied. "There is a corner cleared for you with a stool. Go in the door, follow the wall to the right. Back corner."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, much more softly. "It's bad."

"The odds he will recover?" Prowl asked, somehow maintaining a veneer of somewhat calm.

"15%. We didn't get him until Op's had gotten whatever they needed from him." The aid admitted, backing away from Prowl carefully.

Prowl nodded, his optics closing and he cycled a careful vent of atmosphere. "Thank you," his voice crackled with static, but it was also being honest. With a small nod to the aid, he walked to the door and carefully slipped inside, following the directions and being very careful to be both silent and get in no one's and nothing's way as he reached the stool and sat down.

Ratchet didn't even look up from his work, though Prowl was sure that the medic saw him enter out of the corner of his optic. There was nothing that happened in Ratchet's domain that he was not aware of.

The seat in the corner allowed Prowl a good view of the operating table, and it was driven into him again just what sort of shape Jazz was in. It was honestly a miracle that he was still functioning at all.

Most of the lower half of his frame was gone completely. Limbs were missing from the upper half, and the helm was little more than a melted, rounded lump.

He'd rarely seen such devastation as an Enforcer, or even in the war, but Prowl recognized torture when he saw it. There was too much damage to survive if it had been an accident. It required extensive medical care just to keep him functioning for a breem if that much damage had been done all at once. With little to do but wait, he pinged the Special Operations Commander.

::Whiplash here.::

::Do you know how Jazz was captured?::

Several kliks of silence filled the comm before Whiplash finally answered. ::Double-crossed. The mech that was supposed to be his contact on the inside for the mission betrayed him.::

::Designation?:: Prowl's tone was calm, level, and promised so much pain in the traitor's near future.

::Straightedge.:: Was the quick and willing reply. ::And we don't particularly care if he's never heard from again.::

The tone was grim. Whatever mecha might say about Ops, they looked out for their own, and were not above taking revenge.

::Or if he is delivered to you in a not-so-neat package?:: Prowl's question came with a low rumble. ::You are not bound by the same strictures I am.::

::Oh, that would be even better. And most welcome.:: Whiplash practically purred over the connection.

::Good. I am working on it, off duty. Any information that would not be in his general file that you care to share would be most helpful.:: Prowl promised and suggested.

::I'll make sure that you get all that we have that might be helpful. Not having to expend our own resources on this is appreciated. As being able to wrap it up, and send a message.:: Whiplash promised in return.

With that the line closed and left Prowl to watch in silence as Ratchet and his team tried to save Jazz's spark.

* * *

Twenty-eight joors later, and Ratchet finally declared Jazz stabilized enough for them to rest. As his surgery aids started cleaning up the medic finally turned and acknowledged Prowl's presence.

"You can sit with him as much as you want. Teek. If he responds, comm me right away. He's been flat since they brought him in." Ratchet instructed wearily, without going into detail on all that implied.

"I understand," Prowl's voice was calm as he stood and brought his chair close to the table, only his doorwings showed his fear. "I will alert you should anything change."

"His spark is strong. I'm more worried about processor and memory core damage now. They pretty much melted his helm with acid, from what we can tell." Ratchet informed him quietly, genuine sympathy for the Praxian evident.

He was aware that there were few that Prowl trusted, and had long suspected that Prowl had deeper feelings than he let on for his only 'friend'.

Prowl shuddered, only just managing to keep his horror at that concept out of his field as it reached to entwine with Jazz's as deeply as it could. "Will you install a new one if he is processor-dead?" He asked quietly.

"He didn't leave standing orders not to, and there is no kin to deny approval. So it would depend on if there are parts available, and if command would approve it." Ratchet informed him, close enough to try and teek Prowl's reaction to the news. It was surprisingly neutral to the medic, until he realized that the question likely originated because Prowl thought it was normal, and wasn't sure about the rules here.

Prowl gave a nod and relaxed as he reached out to rest his hand against Jazz's cheek and neck. "I won't keep you any longer. I know you need recharge as badly as anyone." He looked up at the medic. "Thank you for saving him."

"That's my job. And things would be a lot more boring around here without him." Ratchet grunted, though the quick brush of his field against Prowl's was supportive as he departed in search of energon and recharge.

* * *

Prowl had his helm down, resting on his forearm, as his hand and other forearm rested against Jazz's plating. In a light recharge, he was aware of the mecha stepping into the room, but it would still take him most of a klik to boot up enough to do anything. The field that pressed into Prowl from the newcomer was own was irritated and aggressive, and probably the last thing that Jazz needed to teek in the condition that he was in.

He immediately rerouted the physical boot sequence to his vocalizer. "Back off."

"Pit no. Whatever gave you the idea that you could relieve yourself of duty indefinitely?" The voice of Prowl's direct supervisor cut through the quite background sound of the monitors and the relative peace of the private room.

The exchange was enough for Prowl to finish booting up and his first response was to stand with enough momentum to grab Sonar's armor and push him out of teeking range while keeping himself in it. "If you don't have enough respect for the health of the injured, I will have you removed," Prowl growled at him, right in his faceplates and completely unphased by the fact that this was his commanding officer. Even as he spoke he pinged for assistance on the general medical band.

::What?:: A grumpy but still alert Ratchet was the first to respond.

::Sonar is causing Jazz distress.:: Prowl responded. ::Jazz does not need this anger against him.::

"The injured are medical's concern, not yours. You have healthy mecha to worry about." Sonar snapped back.

"He is _unit_." Prowl hissed, holding Sonar where he was.

"Not ours." Sonar responded, not backing down a centimeter and apparently not at all intimidated by Prowl's clear anger.

"My unit," Prowl growled back, not backing down either as he pushed Sonar closer to the door as it opened for Ratchet.

"Someone explain fast," the medic demanded even as he smoothed his field and went to check on Jazz.

"I want to know whose idea it was to relieve a member of my team of duty without my permission." Sonar snapped. "Prowl has work to do."

Prowl snorted and shifted to stand upright, his doorwings flared high and arms crossed in front of him as he glared at his commander. "And just what work have I failed to do?"

"Out!" Ratchet snapped at both of them and pointed to the door. "You can settle this away from my patient."

"You are not in your office and are somehow removed from duty." Sonar replied as he strode out of the room, armor flared in aggressive posturing. "What else am I to assume but that anything being assigned to you is being ignored?"

"How about checking my outbox, or your inbox for that matter," Prowl snapped in reply. "I have not a single duty that requires my physical presence until the officer's meeting in nine orns."

"And what about your mental presence? Working remotely, are you?" Sonar sneered, completely ignoring Ratchet as the medic joined them.

"If my work has not been up to standard, then Ratchet will need to put me on full medical leave until I can focus fully on my duties again, or Prime will have to let me go for dereliction of duty," Prowl answered without any hint of shame or accepting the rebuff, and just a bit of eagerness at the last option.

"Unacceptable." Sonar snapped, though he finally seemed to be getting desperate, as though he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

Before Prowl could answer Ratchet stepped between them, addressing the Praxian first. "Prowl, as soon as you are settled, you can go back in with Jazz. I will handle this."

There was a fractional dip of Prowl's doorwings, disappointment that was quickly controlled. He stepped back from Sonar, cycled a deep ventilation as his field steadied to smoothness, and nodded to Ratchet. "Yes, sir," he said before turning and smoothly walking to the private room.

"Now, exactly what is your dysfunction, coming in like that?" Ratchet growled at Sonar. "If you think I'm not well aware of your fascination with psychologically torturing your subordinates, you are sadly mistaken."

"He took the liberty of placing himself on leave without bothering to seek permission from anyone higher up. I can't tolerate actions like that." Sonar countered, trying to paint the situation in the most positive light he could.

For himself.

"If you're clueless enough to need _me_ to back up such a common sense move, I have even greater reason to question your ability to command. He should have been on _full_ medical leave, but the glitch wouldn't hear of it and anything that helps keep him sane he's going to get, and you know it," Ratchet snapped back. "But you never looked at the status after he logged it, did you? If you had, you would have seen me formalize it."

"I see a very large tactical loop-hope in having him dependent on one mech, but whatever." Sonar sneered, waving a hand dismissively. "Just get him back as soon as soon as you can."

"As if having an entire cohort would change things right now," Ratchet huffed. "Not with the shape Jazz is in. Now scram. They're both under medical care, and you're delusional if you think I'm not kicking them out as soon as I can."

The tactical officer managed to maintain some air of dignity as he left medical, acting as though it was his idea to depart and not the order of mech whose domain he had invaded that was prompting the action.

Ratchet huffed and walked back to the room. He only poked his helm in. "He's gone, and won't be coming back if he knows what's good for him."

"Thank you Ratchet," Prowl said honestly, his doorwings giving much greater thanks. "It is not good for me to argue with superior officers very often."

"I know. He's a glitch. Unfortunately for everyone else involved, he is good at what he does." Ratchet said. "You're welcome to stay with him. Same as before- comm me the klik anything you notice any change."

"I will," Prowl promised before resting his helm on his forearm again, then beginning the shutdown into light recharge.

He didn't see Ratchet smile at the scene, but he wouldn't have minded if he knew either.

* * *

They left Prowl alone with his friend, offering the only thing he could; the presence of his field and the warmth of a gentle touch. Jazz's state remained practically unchanged for a full two orns, any further work put on hold until the initial repairs had settled and integrated. Prowl remained at his side, recharging where he was and refueling as the aids delivered energon to him.

Prowl suspected the energon was delivered on Ratchet's orders, and found himself grateful once more for the often gruff medic's care.

He was sipping on the third cube of energon, field reaching out in was practically a habitual motion now. Only this time the touch was not a futile effort, the faintest hint of familiar Jazz reaching back. He didn't even think as he reached further, as deep as he dared to, and opened a comm ping to Ratchet.

::He's responding to my teek. Weak, but recognizable,:: Prowl informed him as soon as the medic responded.

::I'm coming. That's a good sign, if you can recognize him as Jazz. Try to keep connected, so long as his readings don't start dropping.:: Ratchet instructed.

::Understood,:: Prowl responded and split his focus between keeping hold of Jazz's teek and watching the readouts. He left the line open and fed the readings on it, just for the medic's information until he arrived.

"Stable." Ratchet announced, clearly pleased as he did his own scans on Jazz. "His processor activity is increasing. If it keeps increasing we'll try a hardline with him soon. I'll talk to Ops and get someone down here."

Prowl's entire frame sagged with relief and a tiny sound of stuttering vents escaped him. "Why would Ops need to be here?" he asked, more curious than worried.

"He has no visual or audio feeds. He knows he is among friends, I would hope, since you can teek him. But the best way to communicate with him initially is via hardline. I want one of the Ops mechs to connect with him first, in case he has latent virus programming running that might bite." Ratchet explained.

Prowl nodded and his doorwings gave a wiggle of relief. "A good precaution then. They'd be better equipped than most to deal with a virus. How long until he will be strong enough for it, at this rate?"

"Late this orn, or early tomorrow. I'll call them now, since it can take them a while to get a specialist down here." Ratchet griped.

"I suspect you may find it easier for Jazz than for most," Prowl gave a soft chuckle. "Whiplash is well aware of how valuable Jazz is to keeping a key resource stable."

"Huh." Ratchet grunted in amusement, aware of the truth and rather amused of how aware Prowl was of it as well. Pretty much every one on base _knew_ , even if no one dared to openly speak of it, except, apparently, Prowl. It also led him to muse that this mission was probably not supposed to have been near as high risk as it had turned out to be, given Prowl's value, and by relation Jazz's value. "You're right. Whiplash just promised me a code specialist by mid-orn. Wish I could get that kind of co-operation more often."

"I'm sure he wishes the circumstances that lead you to ask came up much less often," Prowl gave the medic a knowing look. "I know you wish it were so."

"Finish that energon, glitch." The medic growled, though there was really no heat to the order. "I don't need to be working on you too."

"I could go six additional orns before suffering from energon lack. I took care of myself from my first orn," Prowl shot back, but like Ratchet, there was no fire in the tone, and Prowl's doorwings gave an amused twitch even as he finished the cube.

* * *

::Prowl- are you done with your shift?:: Ratchet's now rather familiar voice inquired over a comm towards the end of Prowl's regular shift.

::In three breems, unless you need me sooner,:: Prowl replied promptly.

::You can come retrieve your lover any time. The sooner the better, before I give in to the temptation to undo some of my hard work.:: The threat was an empty one, and they both knew it. Though it was also a sign of just how much better Jazz was doing, and how that was translating into wearing the already often short-tempered medic's patience very thin.

::Tell him that if he behaves for four breems, I'll be there.:: Prowl chuckled. ::He's welcome to comm me to distract himself.::

Ratchet's promise of ::I'll tell him.:: was barely delivered before another familiar comm frequency pinged Prowl.

::Prowler.::

::Hello Jazz,:: Prowl didn't even object to the nickname. ::Are you going to stop annoying Ratchet so I can be there when you are released?::

::I started playing the good little mech as soon as he promised he was letting me go. Two breems?:: Jazz asked, hopeful.

::You know exactly when I shift ends. I will be there one breem afterwards,:: Prowl reminded him.

::All right.:: There was a sigh in the reply, Jazz teasing gently at his friend. He knew and respected how devoted Prowl was to his duty, but that still wasn't enough to stop the kindled mech from giving Prowl a hard time about it from time to time. ::Missed you.::

::As I have missed you. Do you know what you will be doing while you are on light duty?:: Prowl asked, hoping to distract his friend.

::I actually have a few more orns of full medical leave. Ratchet wants to make sure all of the replacements and alterations they had to make are going to function under more normal use. I'll get my work assignments once he clears me for light duty.:: Jazz replied.

::Then you have a few orns with nothing but time on your hands,:: Prowl actually purred softly. ::I'm sure you'll enjoy the extra time to socialize, and perhaps spend some extra with me.::

::Socializing is high in the list, but you top it. All of your free time- I am yours.:: Jazz purred in reply, his tone implying anticipation of far more than fuel and small talk.

::I look forward to it, even though I anticipate Ratchet putting restrictions on the more physical activities,:: Prowl chuckled as he shut down at the end of his shift.

::What he doesn't know...:: Jazz let the sentence trail off, but Prowl could easily imagine the grin on his lover's faceplates, and the concern over whatever he might be plotting that it was generating in medical.

::Jazz, you know I won't disobey a direct order,:: Prowl chuckled with a twitch of amusement in his doorwings but nothing showing in the rest of his frame as he walked among the population.

::Well, we'll just have to make sure he doesn't give _you_ any orders then.:: Jazz teased in return. He wouldn't push Prowl to do anything that would cause the Praxian distress, but high spirits at the prospect of finally seeing something besides the inside of medical were spilling over.

::We'll see if you can manage that,:: Prowl's good mood was a reflection of Jazz's and his own relief and delight at having his friend among the walking again.

"Was that a challenge, lover?" Jazz asked, jumping to his feet to greet Prowl the moment the Praxian stepped into the medical ward.

"No running!" Ratchet snapped at Jazz before whirling on Prowl. "And you I expect to keep him from exerting himself too much while he's with you."

"Understood, Ratchet," Prowl inclined his helm and doorwings in the mixed acknowledgement most winged frames adopted around so many grounders.

"Ratchet." Jazz whined from where he was already in Prowl's arms. "I'm fine. You've done your usual _excellent_ work and I am fully repaired."

"And I'd like my usual _excellent_ work to remain intact," the medic groaned, then rubbed his chevron shield. "Look, I'm not saying you can't 'face, just nothing too strenuous."

"I understand, Ratchet," Prowl said firmly. "Nothing that will hinder his recovery."

Jazz looked between the two, then managed a very put-upon sigh. "Fine. I promise to be good little mech. I won't over do it, and I'll come in every orn for a check-up like I'm supposed to. Can I _go_ now?"

"Yes. Yes." The look Ratchet turned on Prowl could almost be defined as pleading. "Get out of here! And I don't want to see you again until tomorrow!"

Prowl inclined his helm with a faint smile and guided his friend out of the medbay. "So where too first?"

"Well, I was hearing rumors of a marksmanship competition later this orn. Are you competing?" Jazz asked, his field wrapped around Prowl as they walked, Jazz occasionally raising a hand in greeting as mecha called his name.

"I have it tentatively on my schedule, but I would rather spend time with you," Prowl murmured. "It isn't going to tell me anything new."

"I love watching you compete, if you are so inclined." Jazz chuckled. "You're magnificent when you get all focused and intense. 'Course, I do like having that turned on me when we're alone too."

"Especially after you've watched me become so focused and intense?" Prowl teased him lightly and set their destination to the nearest rec-room for energon. "Then fuel, and we'll go to the match."

"Yup. I get to leave with ya, and everyone else just gets to imagine and wish they were me." Jazz grinned, then added a little more serious. "Unless you've found someone else to share with."

Prowl ducked his helm slightly with embarrassment and longing flavoring his field briefly. "I very much doubt many wish to be with me. You are still the only mecha who's made any attempt."

"Not your fault they're blind, Prowl." Jazz said gently as they swung into the rec-room and headed for the fuel dispenser. "Maybe someone will come 'round, eventually. Ya know I won't mind."

"Perhaps. Or another security-based sparked mecha will be assigned here," Prowl didn't hide his hope, or his thanks that Jazz was okay with it. "Cultural basics in common would make it much simpler."

"So you don't have to train another mech from the ground up again?" Jazz was back to his teasing, the field touching Prowl's warm with affection.

"Precisely," Prowl answered, his tone deadpad as they took their rations to an empty table and sat down. Despite his look and tone, his field was both warm towards Jazz and softly longing for another of his own kind, or many of them. 

"It'll work out." Jazz said with more confidence than he really felt before changing the subject. "So what divisions are you planning to enter? Going to take Bluestreak on since no one else wants to any more?"

"If we can agree on a handicap for me that will make it a close contest. Otherwise, I intend to let him take the divisions he enters," Prowl smiled behind his cube, but his optics glittered with competitive mischief. "I will compete in the snap judgment, obstacle course, multi-weapon obstacle course, quickshot, mid-range quickshot and stunt shot competitions."

"All out today. Going to have any energy left for me when you're don't beating everyone else?" Jazz asked, visor glowing with matching light. The new look had turned some helms as he had walked through the halls with Prowl. His old visor had been functional, but transparent, allowing a clean view of the bright optics underneath. This new one was tinted, and much more integrated. It was the best that the medical team and Ratchet had been able to do without giving Jazz a new helm. The torture damage had gone so deep that most who had worked on him were still in shock that it had not reached his processors before he had been recovered.

"I expect so, unless Ironhide is annoyed enough with my performance last time to have become inventive," Prowl's tone said he clearly wouldn't mind. "Though that would put all but a couple others at such a severe disadvantage he'd be obligated to announce it."

"Braggart," someone sneered at Prowl.

"Stating a proven truth is not bragging," Prowl countered smoothly.

Jazz sighed, making a mental note of the big-mouth for later reference, but letting Prowl handle the attack on his own. The Praxian was often capable of putting mech back in their place on his own, and sometimes it was fun to watch.

"Hardly truth," the red minibot growled back, finally earning a disinterested look from Prowl. 

"Only for one who can't find their way around the standings charts to find my stats," Prowl gave a tiny flick of his doorwings and focused on Jazz once more. "Why don't you compete in one of the less movement intensive divisions?"

Jazz was quiet as he considered, then shrugged. "I guess I just never really thought about competing. Never needed to prove to anyone else what I could do just because I can." He studied Prowl for a klik. "Would you like it if I did?"

"I would enjoy watching you excel. So much of your training is not available to watch," Prowl pointed out. "I know you are good. I like to watch it."

"Fine." Jazz agreed with a chuckle. "How about you pick out a couple of classes and enter me in them, and we'll see how I do? And nothing that will give Ratchet any reason to yell at me." Jazz nodded as finished off his energon. "Sounds good. If I win, do I get a reward?"

Prowl chuckled with an amused flutter of his doorwings. "That depends on what you want, and when."

"Just some time with you...and _normal_." Jazz requested, a small flicker in his field only Prowl was close enough to detect revealing how vulnerable the request made Jazz feel, and how much the other needed what he was asking for.

"In my quarters?" Prowl suggested softly, his field reached out a bit to caress Jazz's in reassurance. "I would enjoy that more than the contests."

"Up to you." Jazz said, field brushing back. "We can go to the contest and then later... or we can go now." 

There were undertones in this touch, a tired weariness that was hidden from everyone else in the room.

"Now," Prowl decided for them, for the good of his unit mate, a mech who meant too much to him. He kept the grief and shame from his field as he processed it and it passed. This was exactly why Enforcers were not meant to be without several of their kind, and those that were called in from solitary functions could never return to the field. What was done to make him function in a precinct had stripped from him the ability to put his desires above the needs of the unit. It made him everything an Enforcer should be, but they had not had the kindness to wipe his memories of what being free meant.

He extended his hand to Jazz as he stood, all his focus on caring for the only mech in his unit. The relief in Jazz as he took the offered hand was sincere, another glimpse into how far Jazz really was from well, despite the repairs to his frame.

"Next time." Jazz promised Prowl, falling into step with the Praxian.

"Contests are common. Quiet time with you is far more precious," Prowl murmured as they walked out, their partial rations still with them on the way to Prowl's quarters. "A game, a vid, or just snuggling and talking, or not?"

"Snuggle, talk to me. Tell me how things were while I was gone." Jazz hesitated as Prowl led him into the section of the base that housed the senior officers, and included Prowl's personal quarters despite his lower rank. "Hold me."

"All night," Prowl promised as much as he offered before he opened the door. "You are safe with me."

Jazz accepted the invitation with relief, stepping into the relatively luxurious quarters and venting softly. While there were times that Prowl's obsessive neatness grated on him, right now it was a blessing. Everything looked the same, right where it belonged. It was a point of stability he needed right now in a way that no one outside of Prowl and Jazz's own Ops division was allowed to see.

He still wasn't sure what signal he sent that let Prowl know he felt safe, and thus was safe to approach and touch, but Prowl always seemed to know and when the strong white hand slid down his back, Jazz leaned into it with a hiccupping of his vents when the door closed and locked. 

Just as carefully, Prowl stepped closer and the touch of one hand became a gentle embrace. "Couch or berth?" he offered, completely willing to cater to what Jazz needed with an open spark.

"Couch. We can move later." Jazz said, moving with Prowl to settle on the couch, thankful for Prowl's rank. It made him feel a little selfish, since he was the reason Prowl was here, but right now he was thankful.

"Thank-you." Jazz said as he settled in Prowl's arms, venting and relaxing in the feel of a familiar presence.

"Anything I can do to help, know I will, gladly." Prowl said softly as he finished shifting until they were all but melded against each other. "You just need to tell me."

"Just start talking." Jazz asked. "Anything. Maybe...tell me more of your past. What did you do for fun, to relax, before I found you?"

"Of course," Prowl trilled soothingly and began to talk, running from what he'd done, to what he'd seen, to those he'd known and cities he'd been to. He continued to talk, his voice smooth and even, his field warm and protective, until Jazz sank into recharge. Only then did Prowl actually settle, and it was in the active guard mode that he knew his unit mate needed.


	4. Shot Down

Jazz was humming to himself from the pilot's seat of the shuttle. It was larger than the kind of preferred, and honestly larger than the two of them needed, but Sonar had insisted it was important to show up in a transport befitting Prowl's new rank as Tactical Second in Command of the Autobot Army, a rank that put him fifth in line of command of everything. That, to Sonar, meant a shuttle with a separate pilot compartment, a berthroom and washrack for the dignitary and a living room. It was extravagant to Jazz, even more so to Prowl, but Prowl didn't find the fight worth the stress it caused him to argue with his commander over. So here they were, traveling to each major Autobot facility and city for Prowl to introduce himself and see what conditions were in person.

The one thing that Jazz did strongly approve of was Prowl insisting on, and receiving, control of his own itinerary. That meant even if someone leaked the information of what they were doing and what shuttle they were in, it wouldn't tell an attacker or base when they would arrive where. That and three orns of prep work in the SpecOps vehicle bay made Jazz far more comfortable than he'd usually be. It didn't hurt that to scramble any planned interceptions even more, Prowl took half the piloting shifts so they went further, faster.

In fact, there was the softest sound of the door opening behind him, the sound of Prowl coming in to share energon and relieve him.

"'ello lover." Jazz purred, looking back over his shoulder to catch sight of the elegant Praxian.

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl smiled and offered him a cube before sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "All's quiet?"

"Has been so far. We should be in range of Tyger Pax in about two joor." Jazz replied, leaning over to kiss Prowl lightly before focusing on his energon. "Recharge well?"

"Well enough," he answered as he did most times he'd been asked. "It is still very strange to recharge while in motion."

"Huh." Jazz mused as they fueled and he kept a nominal optic on the controls. "It's something that has never bothered me. What's so odd about it?"

Prowl could only shrug his doorwings. "I expect it's just a random personal quirk. I've never done well when I enter recharge in one location and boot up in another. It's unsettling on a core level."

Jazz couldn't help but chuckle when introduced to yet another quirk in his lover. "So, does me recharging with you help, since at least something is the same when you wake?"

"It would," Prowl admitted. "Though I always recharge better with you nearby." Doorwings fluttered a bit in embarrassment. "I know you're on guard better than I am."

Jazz vented roughly at the compliment, though the field that was still strong against Prowl's was grateful. It had taken a long time for Jazz to see that whatever existed between them caused some conflict for Prowl, but until the Praxian decided to bring it up Jazz had been content to leave it be.

Something clicked in Jazz that moment though, and he swiveled the pilot chair to face the Praxian. "Prowl."

"Yes?" Prowl prompted him to continue with a curious look.

"I-we-" Jazz stumbled for a moment, trying to find what he wanted to say, when the entire shuttle rocked and shook.

Alarms blared, momentarily deafening, as light flashed in warning across the control panels.

All personal concerns fled both their processors as all attention focused on remaining functional, and hopefully, in the air.

"How the **PIT** did they find us?" Jazz hissed to himself. He absently noted that Prowl's lack of response meant they were in even deeper slag than he currently believed. It still didn't matter much as they worked together to avoid and fire back at the Seeker trine swarming around them.

"They want me functional," Prowl said after another hit. "They're taking care not to blow up the shuttle."

"Ground ourselves?" Jazz asked. It was a desperate move, and he diverted a bit of his attention to figuring out exactly where they were, but it was something that the Seekers might not be expecting.

And sometimes the element of surprise was the only thing you had on your side.

"Agreed," Prowl said grimly. "Try for the caverns," he pointed to a location that looked normal to Jazz, but if there was underground access near there it would be to their benefit.

"Right. Here we go." Jazz agreed, trusting Prowl to point them the right way as the Praxian trusted him to get them there.

As the ship whined and creaked around them, he knew it was going to be a near thing and the shuttle wasn't likely to fly again. Not without major repairs anyway.

"Strap in." Prowl ordered, his tone absolutely level right along with his field. Jazz was sure it was a lie, an officer thing not to show the rank and file you were terrified right along with them, and as much as it annoyed him, Jazz had to admit it was effective. Still, he strapped in and braced himself to relax fully into the impact as the shuttle touched down on uneven ground and began to skid as it burned off momentum.

Even with the restraints Jazz felt like his entire frame was being shaken to pieces, and many of his advanced sensors were complaining at the abuse. Training would get him through this, but even training could not make it a pleasant experience.

"Prowl?" Jazz's first concern was for his co-pilot as the shuttle finally shuddered to a halt. Restraints were released and Jazz was on his pedes before his processor fully caught up to his actions. **Pain** hit him like a sledgehammer, and he knew it wasn't his. He'd ache, but it was nothing like what was coming through his field from his companion.

"F-functional." Prowl managed to spit out along with the static. "Left ... wing...."

"Steady." Jazz whispered, fingers feeling along the wing until they reached the joint. As quickly as he could he prodded at it, getting a feel for what was needed.

"Grab on." He ordered, giving the Praxian half a klik to wrap his hands around the solidity of the control panel before bracing himself and snapping the sensor wing back into place with a smooth twist and push.

The wave of pain that hit with the motion was enough to churn his tank, but then it settled into a steady throb. "Still." Jazz said, issuing another order as he reached into his subspace and pulled out a blocking patch he applied to the base of the wing. "Know you don't like 'em, but it'll get us out of here at least."

"I'll need that input very soon," Prowl warned even as he teeked grateful for the reduced pain. "That's a quarter of my balance and sensory input that just went off line," he reminded Jazz as he stood, unsteady despite being careful, and focused as much of his processor as he needed to to compensate. 

"Hate being down a wing," Prowl muttered as he got himself stabilized. "Grab what you can from weapons and storage. I'll get energon," he began to move as quickly as usual. 

It was worrisome for Jazz, knowing just how much processor power was being diverted so Prowl was that mobile. They'd need the tactical advantage Prowl normally provided. Though it didn't stop his hands as he grabbed weapons and stuffed all manner of things into subspace and frame, Jazz realized with a bit of shock that Prowl wasn't his charge, not in his processor. Prowl was his partner, valued as an equal, an agent, rather than what, legally, he was. 

Quietly Jazz considered that as he rejoined Prowl, taking the lead to the nearest exit. He was tasked with getting the Praxian to their destination, functioning and in shape to perform. But one of the nice things about being an Ops agent was that while you were given a mission, sometimes the process was very general compared to the goal.

His goal was to get Prowl there. The best way to accomplish that goal was to view Prowl as he knew the Praxian was likely viewing himself. The faintest of smiles graced his faceplates as that fact snapped into place. He paused, one hand resting on the control that would blow the panel over the exit. "Ready?"

Prowl reached for one of the long riffles Jazz had snagged, gripped it tightly and nodded. "Ready."

The panel blew, Jazz taking the lead smoothly. Optics and audios were tuned to detect the smallest threat, while training directed him automatically to the route that offered the most cover to him and his partner. The Seekers were circling overhead, likely waiting to see what they did and for backup, and all three immediately dove, targeting Jazz with a hail of fire.

Prowl didn't even pause his movements. One doorwing swept up and angled, and with one shot the lead Seeker had a hole in his fuselage where his spark had been. That scrambled the other two Seekers, the trine broken, and it gave Jazz and Prowl time to reach better cover.

"Slick shot, mech." Jazz grinned, moving to Prowl's side to look the Praxian's wing over while Prowl kept watch.

"Thank you. Practice is good even for desk bound mecha," Prowl said as he focused on the two remaining Seekers, waiting for one of them to come into range. "Now we need to reach friendlier territory before their reinforcements arrive."

"Agreed. Patch on, or patch off?"

"On, for now," Prowl decided after checking the diagnostic. "How much of the underground do you have maps for?"

"More than is legal." Jazz admitted easily. "I can get us to our destination, we're just looking at orns instead of joors now. Are you going to be able to transform with that sensor wing the way it is?"

"Yes," Prowl's tone was grim. "The sequence will be slower, but once in alt mode it will be much better supported. My driving time and skill should not be significantly impacted."

"Right. What sort of supplies do you have on you?" Jazz asked, ready to divide the energon and emergency supplies and rations he had grabbed between them in case they were separated. "And can you tolerate a short hard line?"

Prowl grimaced at the concept but opened his port and offered his jack. The hook-up was rather long, and Jazz found that he wasn't allowed deep, but it was access enough for what they needed.

~Ten orns rations, three cubes of high grade, a medical kit from the shuttle, my duty weapons and a thousand rounds of acid pellets, datapads and my hunting kit,~ Prowl relayed the full details of what that meant.

~So you're set. I have an extended med kit, an extra sniper rifle, three pistols, and my personal work kit.~ Jazz offered, privately amazed at how close Prowl's hunting kit was to his own work kit, only the hunting kit was blatantly designed to enable one to kill by traps and included explosives of several varieties. He offered Prowl a compacted data file. ~That's a download of all of the lower structure for the area that I am not supposed to have.~

Prowl relaxed a bit at their solid supply list and quality of maps. He gave a data blip of his intentions and quickly unplugged before the displeasure behind his firewalls grew strong enough to lash out.

"Thanks. Sorry." Jazz apologized as they split the energon and studied the route that Prowl had chosen. "Looks like we're stuck walking until we hit the more open tunnels."

"Not your fault," Prowl promised. "The tac-net is very aggressive about allowing anyone near it. Let's go before they come down."

With a nod Jazz set off in the lead once more. Prowl might try and insist on changing things up later, but with the Praxian's sensor input so limited in the moment, this was Jazz's place. He was relieved that his partner didn't object. He suspected that Prowl had more hunter coding left in him than anyone, including Prowl, was willing to admit to. He'd been partnered with SpecOps hunters a few times, and those were not fun missions even though he had kept up his end of it. He'd spent more energy making sure he wasn't left behind than actually hunting.

The underground was dark, a place where if you didn't want to rely on making yourself a blazing target you had to rely on a combination of infrared, sonar and passive proximity sensors. Jazz had no doubt that his silent partner would have been much better than he was at it if Prowl had his full sensor suite. As it stood, Jazz's visor was a major asset. A permanent part of him now, between his vision and his altered and improved audio sensors the darkness was not as frightening or threatening as it once might have been, and Jazz moved forward with smooth confidence and gratitude that his partner seemed no more disturbed by the darkness than he was. Even lacking one doorwing, Prowl got enough data that he followed Jazz smoothly and without stumbling.

They could move much faster than most pairs in the darkness, and when Prowl's injured doorwing could be used again they'd be able to move that much faster.

Within a joor, however, Jazz felt Prowl's movements shift, his stance go on even higher alert than before. A hand ghosted on his shoulder as Prowl's field drew close, and the light taps of two fingers and a thumb became a pattern than Jazz knew well at this point, but had no clue how Prowl knew it.

_4 targets. 16-20 mechameters south-southwest. Attack?_

Jazz sidestepped into a niche in the wall and paused, re-assessing the situation. Either the mecha coming up behind them were very confident, or very stupid. The light illuminating the darkness was enough to make his visor adjust settings.

Prowl joined him, angling so his undamaged doorwing had a good view of their pursuers. His field reaching out to tangle with Jazz's in silent communication of _ready_. The heavy riffle that Prowl had claimed just before they left the shuttle was at the ready in the Enforcer's hands and Jazz had no doubt that the accuracy he'd displayed against the Seeker was just as deadly here in the darkness. 

_Take down all. Fast._ Jazz answered, decision reached. Escape was not good, and Jazz was not willing to have anyone following them. Not with an injured comrade at his side, and a taxing journey still before them. He felt Prowl's understanding and agreement through their fields, and the shift in the placement of his field and the air as Prowl leveled the heavy riffle to open fire.

It was a tense three kliks as the Decepticons came closer, and torturous to wait for the last one in line to come into easy firing range before engaging, but they did.

It was only after the short firefight that Jazz realized that Prowl had fired on the last one first, making retreat and one getting away that much more difficult for the hunters. It lined up nicely with Jazz's assault from the first one back, but the last target, Prowl's second, managed to avoid the kill shot and scrambled away from the pair that had slaughtered his unit.

Prowl's engine gave an angry growl that his vocalizer backed up, and just as fast the Praxian was after the escapee.

"Pit." Jazz growled, bounding after Prowl. Senses never wavering from high alert and tracking the hunter and prey in front of him, Jazz subspaced his rifle and drew out a pistol and blade to take its place.

If he hadn't set the sensor wing himself and been close enough to constantly teek Prowl's discomfort he never would have believed that the Praxian was hindered in any way. The speed and ferocity that Prowl went after the remaining target would have intimidating to most mecha. To Jazz it was simply a reminder of just how wide Prowl's range of skill was, and just how capable the Praxian was. He would have been an incredible asset to SpecOps if they'd gotten him before his hunter coding had been crippled.

Scratch that. He'd be an incredible asset to SpecOps even now.

Jazz watched as Prowl swapped riffles for his duty acid pellet riffle and leveled a shot while still running full speed. Three pellets fired, and the target went down with a hint on the left hip and right pede.

::You want him functioning?:: Jazz inquired over a super-short range comm as he came up beside Prowl.

::Only long enough to find out how many other teams are after us,:: Prowl motioned for Jazz to do his thing before leaning against the tunnel wall for some relief for his jacked up and battered frame.

With a soft rumble of approval Jazz flipped the downed mech over, ignoring the screech of pain from the injured. The sound only drove him faster as he hacked into a port and started crashing firewalls. ~How many more are there after us?~ He demanded roughly of the terrified low ranking grunt.

A hand came up to try and grab him, to pull him away, and Jazz responded by driving his blade through the wrist and into the tunnel floor. ::How many more are there after us?::

A garbled scream of pain that couldn't get past the vocalizer block echoed into Jazz's helm instead, but beyond that was an image of the briefing the mech had been in. A dozen mecha and a second Seeker trine.

Jazz lifted a hand, making sure he had Prowl's attention before his hand flashed in another Op code, relaying the count on their pursuers.

Prowl nodded his understanding and flashed another code, and suddenly Jazz knew where and how Prowl knew it. Praxus. Somewhere Prowl had trained with the Praxian SpecOps division enough to pick up a functional knowledge of their code. There was an imperial standard, but most divisions had subtle differences in a few common signals so it was detectable who had trained you.

Given Prowl's history, it made total sense to Jazz and he delved into his target's processors. ~Do you know where we're going?~

~Na-no. Just orders...hunt down. Kill small mech. Capture Praxian.~ The now terrified grunt relayed.

The information was enough to make Jazz freeze for a moment, then he signaled Prowl.

_No. Deactivate me. Capture you._

Prowl flashed his understanding and that he had no more questions.

~They say why they wanted the Praxian?~ He demanded, queuing a virus to shove into the other mech once he had his answers.

~High value. Intel. Want him functional.~ Those were the words, but the image spoke even more.

_Soundwave_

The Decepticon TIC, Communications, Intel and SpecOps Commander wanted Prowl, and wanted him badly enough to make a personal point of it.

The good side, he wasn't actually in the area, since the order had been given via vid.

~Tough luck.~ Jazz growled, forgetting the virus and withdrawing. As soon as he was out the slender blade in his hand was driven through armor, snuffing out the spark below in an instant. He kept a few sensors on Prowl to gauge his reaction, and was quietly relieved that his partner didn't seem to have any issues with his method of execution.

Then Prowl was next to him and rummaging around the grunt's subspace and frame for anything useful, a process they repeated on the other three as well. It brought them an extra two orns of rations, a half-used medical kit, a smattering of weapons and other odds and ends. Once they were done Jazz drug the frames over to the side. It wasn't worth the time and effort to actually destroy or hide them, but there was no point in leaving them in the middle of the tunnel for other to trip over.

Given a few orns, and Jazz doubted there would be much left in general, given how _clean_ the tunnels they had already passed through were overall. Satisfied he tilted his helm at Prowl in question, knowing the Praxian would follow the movement of his dimmed visor with ease.

_Ready?_

Prowl nodded and they moved on again, Jazz's visual and audial upgrades mixing well with Prowl's sensor suite to guide them through the underground.

It was many joors later when Jazz called a halt. The route they were on now was old and degrading, and the place where they were standing was the most stable and secure that they had encountered since they had entered that level. Only after a second sensor sweep, overlapping the in depth one he could feel Prowl running as well, did Jazz allow himself to relax a fraction and devote more of his attention to his companion.

::Fuel and watch. I'll check your wing.:: He commed Prowl. Even though hardline was the most secure way of communication when trying to remain hidden, Jazz judged it not worth the stress it placed on Prowl when a comm line would serve them well enough. Even if they'd been out in the open he didn't put enough power into the transmission to reach more than three or four paces.

Prowl nodded his acceptance and turned his back to Jazz, an offering of trust they both knew had taken a long time and much work to earn. Despite the vulnerability, Prowl's field was smooth, welcoming of the touch as Jazz carefully explored the damaged doorwing joint. It looked better to him, and with care he removed the blocker, ready to get it back in place quickly if the pain was too much.

It hurt, Prowl's field couldn't deny it, but it was nothing close to the pain of the fresh damage. ::I'll recharge better with the ache than the blocker.:: Prowl said firmly after a moment to assess the situation. ::Lacking the input is far more distressing.::

::Understood.:: Jazz replied, running a gentle hand over Prowl's good wing in an gesture of affection. ::Recharge first? Don't have long, but you should be able to get a short defrag in. Let that rest some too.::

Prowl nodded, his field expressing his thanks with an affectionate caress as he found a spot where a protrusion in the wall could support his injured doorwing and shut down far too quickly in Jazz's opinion. It was a signal that Prowl was in worse shape than he was letting on.

* * *

An orn into their journey, and Jazz had to admit they were making decent time. Not great- but decent. After dark they dared to venture out of the tunnels, and were able to make better time on the roads, even as bad a shape as these were in.

Now they were down below again, and Jazz was trying to pick a place for a rest and fuel break when a noise several levels below them made both of them freeze. Prowl was the first to find a looking hole that lead down, the sensors in his doorwings giving him a much finer perception of the environment and where sound was coming up than Jazz, though it wasn't by much.

One look down and Prowl's doorwings flattened in anger, but his field teeked of anticipation and an aggression that wasn't normal in Jazz's experience.

 _Six_ Prowl flicked the hand signal, then shifted away from the relatively small opening so Jazz could look.

Jazz knelt, tilting his helm and focusing on the moving figures before. His vision zoomed and sharpened, offering him superb detail.

A klik had Prowl's count of six confirmed, and Jazz studied them carefully. They were clearly on a mission, and more careful than the last group they had encountered. They were no more natives of the tunnels than Jazz and Prowl though, the bold Deception marks clear on several even from this distance.

 _Grounders. Avoid?_ Jazz asked, judging it an easy enough option when he compared their intended route against the direction of the hunting party's travel.

 _Hunt. Kill._ Prowl replied, though the brush of his field said that was desire, not an order.

 _Why?_ There was a sense of not-happy in Jazz's field as he asked, adding a reminder of his mission. _Protect you._

Prowl hesitated, looking down at the path the Decepticons had traveled. Tactically, he knew it wasn't needed. Tactically, it wasn't the best choice. But Primus he hadn't hunted in so long and his very spark ached for it and this would be such an easy hunt.

 _Fewer enemy_ Prowl suggested weakly.

It was a thin excuse, but Jazz could feel the need in Prowl. Silently he weighed his options, the possibilities and the consequences.

Prowl suffered far more than many knew or saw. The Praxian even hid it from him, Jazz knew. But as much time as he got to spend with his lover, he knew how much better Prowl literally functioned when he was allowed to do something that settled him. How much his quality and productivity increased. It was one of the main reasons he still got to race with Prowl outside the security of the base. The other being that the higher ups knew full well that Jazz would manage it anyway, and by sanctioning it the officers involved got a bit of control on the where and when.

A small movement brought him practically flush against the Praxian's side. ::Can you do it _safely_?::

Prowl's first reaction was a flush of indignation across his field, though that was quickly clamped down on. ::Yes.:: With the statement came the plan. One that took advantage of traps, their greater knowledge of the underground and a genuinely vicious abuse of Autobot regulations that Prowl could only get away with because he fell back on Praxian Hunter regulations.

::Your mission. My mission.:: Jazz offered by way of apology, knowing that Prowl would understand. Jazz had no question of the Praxian's skill, but for his own sake, his own mission, he needed the reassurance. ::After you, lover.::

If they were going to do this, they needed to start now, and do it well.

The bright flare of emotion from Prowl at the agreement was enough for Jazz, his own focus and energy rising in response. He reached out, stopping Prowl for a moment. ::You owe me.:: He stated abruptly, reaching up gently hold Prowl's face and claim a kiss. ::One now, and one after we take them down.::

::And a proper thanks when we are at a base,:: Prowl muted a rumble as the kiss was briefly deepened.

They moved quickly, coming in ahead of the Decepticons and using some of the wire they'd scavenged to set the trip lines for two explosive traps, went to work on the ceiling so that the detonation would bring down a huge slab of metal on the damaged mecha below. Jazz had to admire the skill involved. The wire had to be stepped on before it raised up to become a tripwire. It might allow the leaders to escape, which would have them run right into the next trap, but it would be much less likely to allow the back of the line to escape.

As they moved farther ahead of their targets, Jazz felt the floor shift under their pedes and moved carefully to one side to look down. He waved a hand for Prowl's attention and pointed down. Only a flight capable mech would have any chance of surviving a fall of the depth beneath them.

Prowl's grin was viscous as he carefully scanned the area and marked out for Jazz the edges of the unstable floor, then where to set the tiny amounts of explosives needed to make it fall.

Past the unstable floor the pair settled on each side of the passage, waiting and watching to see how successful their traps would prove to be, and how much clean-up would be left for them to handle.

Jazz counted down silently to himself, and smiled in pleasure when the first blast went off right on time. Across from him Prowl's doorwings gave a little flutter of excitement and pleasure, and it was difficult not to smile more at his lover's enjoyment. Prowl enjoyed so little that Jazz treasured every moment he could remind his lover that life was worth living. Counting those moments, and their frequency, gave Jazz the best assessment of Prowl's true processor health in his opinion.

A heavy tank-former was the first to come running into sight, his frame too large to allow his faster companion to get around him. The expression on his face when the floor gave way under his pedes with another explosion was enough to make Jazz smile even wider, even as he brought his rifle up and centered on the smaller, lighter mech in rear as he skidded to a stop just in time to avoid the fall.

Prowl's riffle was up as well and he stepped into the tunnel to fire first. Jazz let him, sensing as much as knowing that the kills were doing Prowl a world of emotional good. It wasn't something he intended to mention, especially not to Ratchet, but it was good to know.

Prowl felt good when he deactivated an enemy.

As the lighter mech fell from a clean shot to the spark Jazz signaled a question to Prowl. _Check?_

Doorwings flared wide and Jazz picked up the lowest couple frequencies of a string of clicks that Prowl emitted, and he thought, maybe, that he could hear the echo.

"Clear." Prowl rumbled with definite satisfaction. "Strip the frames?"

"It was worth it last time." Jazz said quietly as he moved from his cover and snagged Prowl. "After I collect what was promised me."

Prowl's field flared with desire and he claimed Jazz's mouth as he pulled him closer and slid his hands down Jazz's sides. 

A soft rumble and flare of heat answered the attention, and both were reluctant to break it off. "Let's travel fast." Jazz suggested softly.

"Yes, the faster we move, the sooner we can finish that thought," Prowl agreed as he bled out the extra charge in his systems. They fell silent as they made their way around the hole they'd created and went to work scavenging the grayed frames they could access.

* * *

Even once they were behind Autobot controlled lines, Jazz was still on edge. Long, hard orns of travel had started to wear on them both, and Jazz was too keyed up to let his guard down.

But he felt it was safe enough to stop for a few kliks, or maybe even a joor.

"Rest, fuel." He said quietly as he moved to some cover, motioning Prowl before him and planting himself between the Praxian and the outside world. 

Prowl complied, growing ever more sensitive to Jazz's nerves as the orns passed. It went against his coding an experience, but he understood it. "Come here," he reached out to draw his lover closer after he'd gotten a half cube of energon from his subspace. They were still two and some orns travel out at their current rate, but with six orns of rations, at least they were well fueled now.

"Sorry." Jazz apologized as he obeyed. Prowl was capable, perfectly capable, of protecting himself. Prowl easily could have made the journey himself, if the situation had required.

But Prowl was Jazz's mission. Even if he had not come online with the code, _mission_ had been drilled deeply into his thought and code by training and conditioning.

Prowl was also more than just a mission, and Jazz knew that he let it affect him more than he should.

"You're following orders," Prowl kissed a sensor horn gently before reaching a thumb up to rub it gently, trying to sooth. "There is no one living I would rather be in this situation with."

"Little bit more romantic if you had just left it at no one, but I'll take that as a compliment anyway." Jazz teased, the bit of humor a sign that he was relaxing some.

"It is one," Prowl nuzzled him and split his attention between fuel and rubbing Jazz's sensor horn soothingly. After a quarter cube, he shifted his grip to put it to Jazz's lips. "Drink. You need to fuel too."

"How are our stores running?" Jazz asked, taking a small sip obediently. Prowl needed it more, and was a priority.

As things went, Jazz knew he was easy to replace. While his ability to manage Prowl would be difficult, his superiors knew how to select and coach another agent through the process of earning Prowl's trust and affection. It wasn't all that difficult so long as one wasn't prejudiced towards pre-progs, simply time consuming.

Prowl was almost impossible to replace.

"I have six orns rations left, and you should have the same," Prowl kissed the side of his helm. "With two orns travel, three at the most, we have enough to fuel well and then some."

"Good." With that Jazz downed the rest of the cube, and selfishly took a moment to indulge himself by turning to nuzzle Prowl, trusting the Praxian to cover for Jazz's moment of weakness.

Prowl hummed softly in pleasure at the contact and continued to gently rub Jazz's sensor horn. "With this much extra fuel, shall we test the security of the base?"

The question was enough to put Jazz back on his high alert, his frame going tense as he twisted his helm to look at Prowl. "What are you planning?"

"See if we can sneak in," Prowl said as he got another cube out and worked on finishing his ration for the stop.

"No!" Jazz snapped, field flaring aggressively before he managed to control himself again. He felt Prowl jerk back physically, hand moving away and field shocked.

"No, please lover. No." He phrased it as a request this time, turning around to face his lover. Prowl was his equal, his better in many things. He tried not to order, but he would push hard for this, if he had to. "You're injured still. I'm-I'm-no. Now is not the time to play games like that. Plan tests, get them approved, or not as you wish. I will go with you then. But not now."

"It ... bothers you that much?" Prowl's tone was soft as he hesitantly reached out to cup Jazz's face.

The other leaned into the touch, venting weakly and almost trembling. If it were just him- his mission- he would have been fine. Would be fine. Would be tempted to attempt such a test himself, just to test _himself_. But he would not risk Prowl. Not so close to safety. Not in the state he was in. "Once you are safe and well, things will be better." He said quietly, not sure if the Praxian would understand.

Prowl drew him closer and held Jazz, offering comfort in the strength of his frame and field that he was healthy right now. "All right. Then we should hail the first patrol we come near, once we confirm they are Autobots."

Thanks and agreement flowed back, relief that Prowl was willing to forgo his plan for the time being. "Yes. Once we are sure. It will get us back faster, and let me collect on that promise of yours."

"And a satisfyingly good night's recharge afterwards," Prowl agreed with a rumbling purr. "Finish your ration and we can get going. Driving the main road is going spot a patrol the quickest." Even as he said it, the part of him that was still very much in enemy territory balked at the thought.

Jazz reached around, running a hand gently over a sensor wing as he consumed the rest of his energon, forcing himself to calm so that was easing against Prowl. "We have a plan. It is a good plan. We can even be on alert and get off the road until we know for sure they're friendlies."

"Always," Prowl clamed a quick, soft kiss before finishing his portion, sealing the cube and putting it away. "Do you want to recharge for a few joors until daylight?"

"Are you all right keeping watch?" Jazz murmured, tempted by the thought.

Prowl's field caressed him gently and a hand cupped Jazz's face. "Yes. Recharge. I'll stand guard for three joors, then take my rest."

* * *

Rest and fuel put things into a little better perspective. Jazz was still twitchy, traveling in the open during the day like they were. His sensors were extended to their fullest, looking for friend and foe alike, and he could feel that Prowl's were set the same. They hadn't been in survival mode all that long, only a few orns, but it had set both of them into paranoid mode, an indicator that the state came naturally to both mechs.

It was Jazz who picked up the unit ahead of them first, pair of standard alt modes driving towards them.

::Company.:: He informed Prowl as he swerved for cover. Prowl was right behind him, and they transformed together, sensor wings quivering and passive sensors straining to get a solid faction ID on the pair. The odds said they were Autobots, a patrol heading out. Neither were prepared to bet on the odds right now.

Tension flickered between them, feeding on the other's stress as the pair came closer, then closer.

Prowl _thought_ he saw an Autobot red mark on the hood of one of the oncoming mecha, but he wasn't positive. If he wasn't positive, he wasn't going to say it.

::They're decorated right.:: Jazz said from the Praxian's side. ::Wanna risk this pair? Or try for some closer?::

::Try these,:: Prowl decided. ::You make the approach,:: he pulled his heavy riffle from subspace. ::I'll cover you.::

Jazz nodded as he subspaced his pistol. His field brushed against Prowl in a mix of affection and care, then went tired and rather neutral.

Hands held before him in peace, Jazz stepped onto the roadway and called to the approaching patrol, who immediately stopped and transformed. While the drawn weapons were expected, reassuring in an odd way because it meant the pair followed protocols, it still made both travelers tense.

"Identify yourself!" the red and green guard called out.

"Autobot Jazz, Special Operations Division. I was shot down on a transportation assignment three orns ago." Jazz replied, letting just how tired he was show clearly.

The pair glanced at each other, then focused on Jazz as their weapons relaxed. ::We've got a mech, claims to be Autobot Jazz, Special Operations Division from the downed shuttle. Looks like him. Prowl's not with him.:: "Where is your charge?"

"Functioning." Jazz said, loud enough for Prowl to hear clearly. It was the Praxian's choice to come out, or shoot them. There was a beat as that was relayed to base by the patrol, and Prowl cautiously stepped into the open, weapon still in hand but not leveled at them and the 'functioning' status was changed to 'with us' to much relief from the other side.

"Why don't you both sit and recover a bit. A transport is on its way," the red and green one said. "Any first aid or energon needed?"

Prowl shot Jazz a look, publicly deferring to the one who was supposed to be in charge under the circumstances and blatantly playing up being in way over his helm but holding it together.

"We're good for now. Nothing that needs to be seen before we're back at the base. Thank-you." Jazz moved to Prowl's side, motioning for the Praxian to rest. Weapon still in hand, Prowl sank to the ground, his back against the jagged outcropping he'd hidden behind and utter exhaustion in every line of his frame. The locals took positions on either side of the pair and made a good show of keeping watch. Jazz was fairly sure they were actually competent at it, but he couldn't quite bring himself to trust them with his charge. Not so close to safety. That Prowl, while looking more exhausted than he was and cradling his riffle in the way of the traumatized, was also still on guard and ready to shoot anything, didn't make Jazz any more inclined to trust his 'fellow Autobots' than he was. They were allies until proven otherwise, but not yet trusted.

The arrival of the transport was a different sort of relief, and he offered Prowl a hand up. A quick nod of thanks to the patrol sent them on their way.

"Just you two?" The operator asked. "Got orders to take you straight back. They're flying a medic from another base. Only heard stories, but are you lucky to rank the attention of Ratchet, or unlucky?"

"Yap, just us." Jazz nodded.

"Lucky," Prowl decided as they boarded, and Jazz teeked the first wave of genuine relief and feeling a bit safer than before. "He is an exceptional medic."

"And as grumpy as a monster called from the Pit, if the stories are true." The operator countered conversationally as they sped back towards the base, not stopping his rambling chatter until they reached the first gate.

Jazz found the noise soothing in an odd way, the mech just rambling about common knowledge gossip. He settled down beside Prowl, aware, but finally starting to accept that they did not have to fear danger every nanoklik.

Just inside the first gate, a new mech came up into the back of the transport with them. Painted medium blue with red, green and gold markings, he moved with the grace of a dancer and gave a concealed hand signal to Jazz.

_Kin_

_Welcome kin_ Jazz signaled back quietly, giving the correct response. _Orders?_

 _Stand down_ the agent signaled carefully. 

"Gladly." Jazz said, speaking for the first time since the other mech had joined them, his field relaxing out from where it had been held close. Exhaustion and relief were evident for the other to teek.

Jazz was sure that he was going to be in for a long and probably unpleasant debriefing later, but for the moment Prowl was safe, and they could both look forward to fuel and a real recharge. Even better, if a fellow agent was their first contact, it meant no one would question them recharging together. No one would try to separate them until they were both defragged well enough that one wouldn't react to the other being taken away as a threat. A couple orns of peace and quiet together, no duties but to recover from what happened.

It was as close to a vacation as either of them got.

"What is the plan?" Prowl asked, weary but still focused.

"You are probably subject to Ratchet's tender care." Jazz started, glancing at the other agent for confirmation. "Then you and I get to refuel and rest for a few orns before being dumped back into the regular grind."

Prowl nodded, his doorwings and field flickering with relief. "Hopefully this time we'll have a shuttle that can dodge Seeker-fire."

The agent snorted. "This time I expect you'll get a shuttle that flies itself."

"That may not be a bad thing." Jazz commented, his processor already jumping into weighing the pros and cons of having another mech involved in Prowl's safety before he cut the line of thought it.

It was important, but right now it belonged in another time and place. His judgment was clouded, blurred by exhaustion and the lingering strain of the recent travel.

* * *

The security on the room they had been assigned made Jazz feel better than he probably should have. There were some perks to Prowl's new rank, but they still didn't completely outweigh the stresses and strains in Jazz's opinion.

Finding that Prowl was already back was enough to raise his mood considerably though.

"What did Ratchet have to say?" He asked as the door closed and locked, allowing Jazz to cross the room to his lover and feel like they were finally in some semblance of privacy.

Prowl drew him into a close embrace and was simply still, taking in Jazz's teek for a lingering klik before he answered. "Beyond grumbling about how much I used my damaged doorwing and how long it took to make sure I was physically fit for duty, he actually admitted I took good care of myself given the circumstances. Mindguard was much less pleasant to deal with." He actually shuddered a bit. "I understand why she needed to perform the scan, but it was extremely invasive."

"She's never fun to deal with. I'm just thankful that is her duty personality, and not her natural one." Jazz agreed. He wasn't nearly as protective of his processor as Prowl, not in the programmed way the sparked mech was. He still did not enjoy his processor evals with the medic. They usually left him with a major processor ache, though this time it wasn't all that bad. He was too worn out to notice it much.

Prowl hummed acceptance of that statement, then lowered his helm to nuzzle Jazz. "So now that we have a few orns off duty, are you ready to recharge together?"

"Yes. Please." Jazz sighed, leaning into the affection with relief. His higher-ups would probably be appalled of they knew how deep his affection for the Praxian ran, but right now all Jazz wanted to do was recharge in the safe comfort of the familiar warmth that was Prowl's field and frame. He willingly allowed Prowl to guide them to the berth, wrapped in the gratefulness and exhaustion in Prowl's field as they sank into the softness and each other's healthy presence.

"It's amazing what a few orns can do to one's perspective," Prowl murmured as he snuggled against Jazz's back.

"Oh?" Jazz inquired, already starting to shut down in the peaceful setting.

"We were out for less than seven orns. That's not normally enough to refocus social protocols so firmly," Prowl said as his optics powered off. "That should take a metacycle or more."

"Mission parameters." Jazz suggested, trying to make some sense out of his feelings, and cover them at the same time.

"I suppose," Prowl accepted it without much thought as he shut down, content to feel safe, warm and clean with his unit against his plating.

* * *

It was a demand for fuel that finally pulled Jazz from a very deep recharge. A groan escaped him as he booted up slowly, field already reaching out before he was fully online to check on Prowl. His lover, his charge, was also booting, and Jazz gradually recalled that this was actually their second boot in this room, though the first had only lasted long enough for Prowl to fumble for a cube on the berthside table, down it and settle once more. This time, while Prowl's systems were demanding fuel, he was also teeking of being reasonably rested and willing to move.

It was a good feeling, and Jazz snuggled closer, nuzzling Prowl and purring softly. "Morning."

"Morning," Prowl murmured as his vocalizer finished booting. "Hungry?"

"Yes." Jazz said, tilting his helm for a light kiss. "And you are too. You're screaming it." He teased as he rolled over and reached for energon for them both.

"I am," Prowl agreed and sat up before accepting the cube gratefully. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he accepted Jazz snuggling up against him.

"Better." Jazz admitted from where he was tucked against the Praxian's side and began to sip his energon. "Recharge is helping. You?"

"Much better, though I'm still more likely to shoot a surprise visitor than greet them," he admitted. "It's not a pleasant sensation, but it is a familiar one."

"From your hunter orns?" Jazz asked quietly, sipping slowly at his energon and enjoying the rare peace.

"Yes," Prowl sighed in contentment as the energon hit his tank. "The standard was three point two orns of resocialization down time for every metacycle out, though the mecha who did the resocializing were experts in bringing us back to civilized standards quickly. This time there are no experts, but there is far less time involved."

"Were partners reconditioned together?" Jazz asked, curious even though he knew that Prowl had worked alone.

"Yes," Prowl slid an arm around Jazz. "It's quicker when you don't have to work through the 'where is my partner' demands first. Most hunters spend decades or centuries on a hunt before coming home. We didn't get a case until a criminal had left the reach of normal law enforcement. That often meant it was cold, though not always."

"Was working with me so bad, o mighty loner?" Jazz teased, field caressing Prowl in affection.

"No," Prowl nuzzled him. "You're competent." Despite the words, affection was deep and rich in Prowl's field now that he wasn't so hungry anymore.

"Competent. Merely competent. I don't even rank 'good'." Jazz pretended to pout as he sealed off the rest of the large cube for later and pulled away long enough to set it back on the side table.

"Competent is the best I've ever said of another," Prowl said, suddenly uncertain.

Jazz was back against his side in an instant, snuggling close and wrapping the Praxian in field full of warmth, affection, and approval. "I was just teasin' ya lover. If that is the highest compliment you've every paid anyone, then I'm honored." He soothed, distressed by Prowl's distress.

"Sorry," Prowl murmured as he accepted the comfort and held Jazz close. "I'm clearly not fully recovered."

"What about what I said upset you?" Jazz asked, curious.

"I thought I had upset you," Prowl said quietly, slightly embarrassed by the mistake. "You're much more like me when you're on a mission. It was so very easy to forget that isn't normal."

Jazz nuzzled Prowl gently, humming gently as he did so. "I'll never be like you, not enough for you. But maybe I can be enough as I am to make functioning easier for you." He suggested softly.

"You do," Prowl promised, sincerity in voice and field as he stroked Jazz's back. "I would have ceased function vorns ago without you, and been grateful for the shot that ended it."

"Good. And it needs to stay that way. I don't want to have to train a new mech on how to rub my back perfectly." Jazz informed Prowl before tilting his helm to kiss the Praxian's chin. He had felt Prowl's desire to end functioning over the vorns, very often at first and then less and less the longer they were together. At first he had worked against those feelings because he was supposed to. Later it had been because he honestly didn't want to loose Prowl. "And that was teasing again lover."

"I believe you wish me to live for the same reason I wish for you to live. It would hurt too much otherwise." Prowl hummed and tilted his face down for a proper kiss.

Jazz vented softly, silent agreement as he drew the kiss out for as long as he could. It was probably a bad idea, how close they were, but Prowl was functioning. By definition he was doing his job. And following his spark at the same time.

Slowly he reached around, stroking the Praxian's frame with gentle hands. He was rewarded by a soft sigh, the flushing of his lover's field with light pleasure and returned attention. It felt too, so very good, and it continued to feel good as they indulged in the desire to touch and confirm that the other was well.


	5. A New Tactic

Prowl sent the rejected SpecOps plan back to the mech who'd written it up with all his commentary. While the plan had a suitably high probability of success, enough that Prowl would normally have passed it, the probability of the agent coming back functional was appallingly low. It was simply unacceptable to put an agent at that much risk if it was not critically necessary and inescapable. Prowl hated suicide missions, but he'd approved them if the success rate was high enough and the results important enough.

This was not such a mission.

"You've got that feel about ya that says you're not happy lover. What this time?" Jazz asked gently as he placed energon on Prowl's desk.

The Praxian's shift wasn't quite over, but Jazz had found himself with some extra free time, and had decided to use it to invade Prowl's office earlier than usual. Experience told him he was welcome, even if Prowl was too busy to chat or pay attention to him.

"Sonar is slipping," he tossed Jazz the datapad with the mission on it. "Good success rate, very poor survival rate."

"Not worth the trade? As much as you two disagree, I know that the end result is usually worth the price when he plans." Jazz asked as he picked up the plan and looked at it before going rather still and quiet.

"Not even close," Prowl said grimly. "You know I should not have shown you. You know who is going on it."

"Yeah. I know that mission." Jazz answered, somewhat evasively. "How are you getting along with those mechs Ratchet introduced you to?"

"Acceptably well," Prowl shrugged one doorwing. "It feels like they're just humoring Ratchet, or under orders of some kind." He glanced down at overlapping hands. "It still feels good to have a group again. I should be forming those bonds within Tactical, but they do not wish to."

Jazz rose from his seat, walking around behind Prowl's desk to rub the tactician's wings soothingly, affectionately, and felt him relax and lean into the contact. ::That mission is supposed to be one of mine.:: He admitted over a closed comm line, even as other words came out of his mouth. "It's not your fault they can't see that there is more to you."

::That explains why Whiplash wanted me to look at this one carefully, as if I would do anything less.:: Prowl tensed, though physically it was only a small show quickly gone. "Or perhaps that you see far more than is reasonable." Though the tone were serious, the field that wrapped around Jazz expressed how grateful Prowl was for it, no matter Jazz's reasons.

::That is the third mission assigned to me that you have rejected in the last decaorn.:: Jazz informed him over the comm. "And what is reasonable for me to see?" He asked lightly, field light and warm as it caressed Prowl in time with the hands still moving over the sensor panels.

::It is time for me to review the rest of his work,:: Prowl sighed, a sound of both regret at the needed action and pleasure at the touch. "That I am a difficult to manage, overly focused, unsocializable Enforcer without a city, with a serious glitch and prone to suicidal impulses."

Jazz made a dismissive sound when Prowl finished. "Maybe ya are all that. But you are also very smart, loyal, and interesting. When a mech can get you to discuss something besides work." ::Is this turning into a pattern with him?::

"Which takes more effort than most find reasonable," Prowl hummed, his frame sinking forward as it relaxed. ::Yes. All three were his. The two you did go on only required minor changes to make them acceptable, so I marked the changes and passed them on.::

"Only for the lazy." Jazz remarked as he followed the motion, smiling in honest pleasure at the trust and acceptance Prowl granted him. "And not gonna complain about having such a great friend for me." ::Got a theory, or ya need to think things through more?::

"Flatterer," Prowl murmured, his optics powering down in relaxation that wasn't really for show. ::One: he is trying to remove my stabilizing influence as an easy way to remove me. Two: he is genuinely slipping. Three: his designation is on it, but someone else is writing them.::

"Truth speaker." Jazz countered with a soft purr of affection. ::He would be that petty, from what I have seen and heard,:: he growled over the comm. ::The second could lead to the first- if he is slipping, you would be his replacement. And if it is the third...we have a security issue.::

::He is that petty, and the third could be laziness rather than a security issue. In some commands, it is not uncommon for a subordinate to sign their commander's designation to reports and such. It could also fall under testing my reactions to poor plans under his designation, or as a training exercise for lesser tacticians.:: Prowl rattled off all the non-treasonous ways it could be happening, resistant to going there despite his dislike of Sonar.

::Warped-code way to test you.:: Jazz said, not impressed at the idea as he continued to massage the wings spread wide and lax under his touch. "Want to go out after your shift?" He asked softly. "Or have I melted you too much to move?"

"Maybe to my berth," Prowl murmured, his doorwings going even more lax. "For more rubbing. We haven't spent an evening in in some time."

"Then let's go lover. You've already met your quota and more for the orn, and we both know it." Jazz said, leaning forward to kiss helm before backing off.

"And I would do more, if you weren't so enticing a reason to leave," Prowl gave a lazy stretch as he stood, made the effort to put his public manner back on and walked to the door.

The smaller mech chuckled, teasing a hand down a wing as he slipped past Prowl out the door so the Praxian could lock up. "No one else can see what they are missing. And they still have their original optics."

"Mmm, to your advantage to be sure, and to my advantage that no one had stolen you away from me yet," Prowl purred with a soft caress along the base of Jazz's visor. "I liked your optics, but the visor does give you an sense of mystery that's appealing."

"Everyone else is too lazy to try. Some have, but none of them are as interesting or attractive." Jazz replied, helm tilting after the touch. With a sigh he reached out, catching Prowl's hand gently in his own and setting off for Prowl's quarters.

Jazz had his own, but the quality of the Praxian's berth was a luxury Jazz had come to enjoy. And the company there was even better than the accommodations. He really only went to his own when he was decompressing from a mission now, and it was growing less and less like his safe space as the vorns passed.

Prowl teased Jazz's palm with his fingertips, and the terms that it sent to Jazz's processor tried to make the mech's knees weak. Things Prowl would _never_ say, dirty, erotic and so very explicit, he seemed willing to tell Jazz's hand.

Jazz's fingers whispered in subtle retaliation, speaking to his lover as he could not aloud. He felt the surprise in Prowl's field, and the next caress of a finger made Jazz stumble.

Sparkplay!

Prowl had never once indicated he had even thought about it, but the glyphs coming through Jazz's hand spoke of not just thoughts, but experience in turning a lover to goo by touching the crystal.

It was a very good thing that not much distance remained to Prowl's quarters.

"I figured you would have been done being surprised with me a long time ago." Jazz said before pulling in for a hungry kiss as the door closed, locking them in a small pocket of safe and familiar.

"You continue to surprise me," Prowl answered when the kiss finally ended and they tumbled onto the plush berth with Jazz pinned under his lover. "I did not expect you knew chirolingualism," Prowl rumbled hungrily into another kiss, his field alive with desire.

"Yet you tried it anyway?" Jazz asked, optics alight with amused curiosity as his fingers played over Prowl's chest, teasing the heavy armor there and the narrow seams between the plates. "Do I want to know why you know it?"

"As an officer, we are expected to be fluent all major Cybertronian dialects and six additional dialects or languages, and every precinct is required to have at least one Enforcer that can communicate in a language. When I became a city Enforcer, no one in the precinct was truly fluent in Chirolingualism, so I learned," Prowl explained as he moaned at the attention. "Nothing very exciting."

"So what else are you fluent in?" Jazz asked softly, smiling at the sounds his attention was drawing from Prowl. The mech was so amazing when he trusted enough to let go, so much more than any lover Jazz had been with before.

"Polyhexian?" He asked, slipping into a much rougher tongue with the ease of a native.

"Yes," Prowl rumbled back in the same, his armor loosening and frame arching slightly to give Jazz more access. "It is a major dialect, you know. My rare languages are Chirolingualism, Towers, Low Kaon, Atreez, Tandoc, Convoy, 'Cant, Sironian and Basic Sparkling. I picked up SpecOps sign language when one of my hunting assignments included partnering with an agent. It was a long four centuries."

"Towers." Jazz repeated in standard, humming softly as he considered that, the constant note playing with the air between them. "Is it as elegant as they say?"

"And more, in my opinion," Prowl's rich voice answered before he _sang_.

"Primus." Jazz swore, going still as the sound washed over him, flowing through his advanced audio sensors and somehow right through him. The language was elegant, beautiful in its own right. In Prowl's voice it- there was nothing the smaller mech could really compare it to.

Prowl nuzzled him, kissing and nipping Jazz's throat cables as a few more glyphs of Towers were spoken in Prowl's sharply growing arousal. Jazz's field flared against him with each glyph, fiery heat and desire in each touch as Jazz moaned his lover's name, pleading with the single sound for more. He was rewarded by continued glyphs, a rhythm Jazz belatedly recognized was an actual song, as Prowl continued down his throat and the slowly down his chest seam.

"Never knew you could sing." He whispered softly, wonder shining through the pleasure as he reached for deep protocols and engaged them.

It took almost a klik before a one of the seams spread by only a few millimeters. But it was enough to let the pulsing hint of the living purple escape to wash over Prowl's face. That drew a low, deep moan from the Praxian, along with a flush of _joy-excitement-deep honor_ through his field.

Prowl continued to sing, but soon modulated his voice to nearly match the natural harmonic of the crystal still hidden from view. The series of changes had the mech beneath him melting and shaking. Jazz had never had a lover do this, and his processor was unable to keep up with the sensations from his frame and spark. His armor continued to part until it was fully folded away. Gradually Prowl's voice reduced to a hum of that same frequency and he kissed Jazz's spark chamber, funneling the vibration directly into the matrix.

A blinding flare of light spilled put, highlighted by the cry of pure bliss that spilled from Jazz's vocalizer. Trust and surrender granting the smaller mech the gift of an overload so intense it knocked him offline.

Prowl smiled, trembling in his arousal as he pulled away to allow Jazz's armor to close. He teeked Jazz's state deeply, judging how long his lover would be down and judged it to be a solid shutdown. As smug as he felt about knocking Jazz off-line with his voice and that the mech trusted him to go down that hard, it left him with an intense charge to deal with.

With a groan Prowl slid to the side and rolled to his back. His chest armor unlocked and parted more quickly than Jazz's had, and he made short work of driving himself to overload with his fingers in his internals and spark chamber. By the time Jazz began to boot up again, Prowl was content to snuggle against him

"Never had anyone do that before." Jazz admitted as he curled up against his lover, still processing what had happened as his frame recovered. "Sorry you had to take care of yourself, but... Primus, you're amazing lover."

"Thank you," Prowl purred as he slid an arm over Jazz's frame to hold him close. "Next time we'll just see to me first."

"I would love to see your spark, if you will allow it." Jazz murmured. "And I have got to get you to sing for me more often."

"I only really sing in Tower," Prowl's field flushed with a bit of shy embarrassment. "It doesn't work well in any other dialect." Despite the words, he shifted the rest of the way to his back and unlocked his chest armor.

"Then you shall have to teach me, so I can understand what you are saying while I enjoy the sound of your voice." Jazz said, teasing his lover with formal wording until he was distracted. "You will let me see anyway?" He asked, voice full of awe as his frame went still that _asking_ was all he had to do.

"Yes," Prowl reached over himself to caress Jazz's cheek in an effort to draw the mech over him, much as he had been when he'd touched Jazz's chamber.

Slowly, obediently, Jazz followed. Wonder spread from him and over Prowl as Jazz looked down at the crystal that shielded a pulsing ice blue spark, so brilliant it was almost white.

He'd never seen a spark like that before, not in a lover or target, and Jazz reached out, just stopping himself before he actually _touched_. "So beautiful."

Prowl's field flushed at the complement. "Touch, if you want," he offered. "As I understand it, it is only three shades away from having me reassigned as a priest."

"Something to wonder at maybe, in a sparked mech." Jazz said thoughtfully. Finally he brought himself to touch, his fingers brushing over the crystal chamber lightly.

A shiver ran though Jazz's entire frame at the tingle of life and energy he could sense through his fingertips. It felt so good, strong resilient, and Jazz sighed as he withdrew his hand and relaxed against Prowl's frame so he could feel it against his entire chest armor. The pleasure that surged up against him through Prowl's frame, field and voice was thick and rich, giving no doubt that the Praxian was more than willing to indulge again.

"Is this an offer to play, lover?" Jazz asked softly, wanting to be sure of what Prowl wanted. He no longer feared doing something that would cause the Praxian to walk away from him and end his mission. No, now he wanted because Prowl wanted. Making the Praxian happy, bringing him pleasure, brought Jazz a sense of satisfaction and was a point of pride that he rather enjoyed.

"Definitely," Prowl rumbled, eager to have Jazz touch him.

Slowly Jazz traced his fingers over the crystal, sensors in the tips mapping the smooth surface of each facet as energy from the spark it protected tingled up his hand and arm.

"Have you shared before?" He asked softly, almost entranced by the glow of the others spark.

"Many times," Prowl managed to gasp out. "For pleasure and deeper."

Slowly Jazz withdrew his hand, shifting upward so that his frame covered Prowl's, shielding the others spark. He claimed a kiss, slow, deep, and passionate, before his next question. "Share with me?"

Prowl's hand came up to caress Jazz's face as he smiled at his lover. "I would be honored to."

There was a soft sound this time of Jazz's chest plates moving aside, of his spark chamber moving forward.

He gasped softly at the feel of another spark close to his own, even if both were still locked in their protective cases.

"Have you shared before?" Prowl moaned deeply , his chamber beginning to spiral open.

"Not often, and not like this." Jazz replied, quivering at the first tendrils of energy from Prowl's spark as they brushed against his chamber, teasing and encouraging him.

He was hesitant, unsure, but he also wanted so very deeply to feel his lover like this. To see if could be as good as everything else was with Prowl. With someone he trusted.

"Relax. Take your time," Prowl cooed softly to him, steady despite the pleasure already building in him. His hands stroked Jazz's arms, encouraging him with total acceptance of the hesitation, offering every move forward or back to Jazz. His lover slowly relaxed, and when Jazz turned his helm for another kiss it was willingly given and drawn out.

Out of sight but certainly not out of feel the faintest purple tendril slipped out to touch Prowl's spark, seeking and curious. That first touch sent an explosion of sensation across Jazz's awareness, filling him with an awareness of the raw strength of the spark next to his. A spark far stronger than his own, yet steady, calm, and welcoming. It was the welcoming that gave him the courage to continue, allow the merge to strengthen at all and to accept without pulling away when Prowl's spark touched his own.

The small, tight mass was an ever-changing swirl of emotion and energy for Prowl to experience, and he caressed it with affection and care. Jazz's energy actually steadied a little as his spark touched it, and was carefully invited deeper. Prowl took the invitation gladly, though he progressed slowly, and invited Jazz deeper into himself at the same time.

"I'm sorry you were hurt this way," Prowl whispered.

Spark warmth eased the tension in Jazz's frame and he kissed Prowl again as his spark caressed the Praxian's, sending a shiver of pleasure through them both.

"You were not the one that hurt me. I want to feel it not hurt." He admitted softly.

Prowl smiled softly at the deep honor he felt at being trusted so much. With a soft kiss that lasted forever, he gently deepened the merge. ~It feels amazing with a lover.~

~I've heard. Now, I think I can believe too.~ Jazz's spark answered, relaxing from the tightly wound ball it had been hiding as to welcome Prowl's deeper, mingling with the calm and finding the contrast between them different but welcome. It was amazing to Jazz that Prowl's spark was so much like his outward personality. Even if one stripped all the coding away, Prowl would still be very recognizable. Oh, there was aggression here and there, but it wasn't a violent aggression. It was what Prowl had always described in himself: Prowl was competitive.

~It means I was called well. If a spark is called correctly, it will be a match for its coding and duties,~ Prowl explained gently, genuinely proud that he was such a good match. It was a trait respected and desirable among sparked mecha, something their societies held up as a pinnacle of what was the best of their kind.

~Different. Not bad.~ Jazz hummed and referring to the differences between sparked and kindled mecha once more. Amusement tickled between them, but the words that followed explained. ~You are the best anyway.~

Prowl's spark flared with pride, almost preening at the multi-angled praise, though the awareness beyond the spark flushed with embarrassment. The purple spark pushed against it playfully, joyfully and without thought before jumping back a bit, unsure. 

The ice blue spark hummed and trilled to it, inviting it to come forward, that all was well.

Prowl's limbs, however, were beginning to tremble with the charge building inside him.

Re-assured, Jazz's spark jumped forward again, and with the touch this time came another form of assurance for Prowl.

_It is ok. Let go._

Prowl moaned, unable to resist the permission. Energy exploded through his frame, rushing from his spark outward into him as well as sending a huge surge into the spark joined with his.

There was no resistance, only welcome there this time. And the fear that had hidden there was mostly gone as well, washed away by the energy of one overload, and the smaller one that it prompted in the other.

Jazz found himself surprisingly coherent at the end, and he smiled as he shifted his frame enough for their armor to close without grating against each other before settling down and waiting for Prowl to come back to the world of the thinking. He enjoyed the moment, gazing at Prowl's pleasure slackened features that slowly turned to a smile.

"Enjoy this one?" Prowl asked, his vocalizer still crackling lightly from the charge.

"Very much. Thank you." Jazz answered softly, nuzzling Prowl. This close, he could still feel the Praxian's spark where it was hidden away below his own, and was sure that Prowl could feel the warmth and unusual calm in Jazz's right now.

It was a strange feeling, but the more that Jazz inspected it and experienced it, the more he decided that he rather liked the feeling.

"Good," Prowl found the coordination to reach up and stroke Jazz's cheek. "Intimacy should feel good, be good."

Content and happy, Jazz relaxed into a lump of mechgoo, purring softly at the gentle petting and very content to just lay there. He didn't know how long it was before he felt the shift in Prowl's field, but he knew what was coming. Bracing himself a little while trying to hold on the peace he had found, he spoke first. "Go ahead. Ask."

"Who hurt you?" Prowl's tone echoed the possessive-protective flare of his field.

"One of my first lovers, a long time ago." Jazz said, curling more against Prowl as he pulled up a memory that still had not faded despite thousands of vorns. "It...hurt." He still couldn't put into words what the violence of that first merge had done to him. "Never merged just for pleasure, just because I _wanted_ to feel someone else, after that. Until now."

Prowl's field turned sad, then gentle-supportive as he stroked Jazz's back. "You will never face that with me," Prowl promised with all he was. "I will make anyone who hurts you _pay_ for it."

"Oh lover." Jazz chuckled, the sounds soft as he kissed Prowl. "It still hurts, but the after-effects have served me well, in my current line of work."

There was a lingering pause, and Jazz could _see_ as Prowl possessed the implications of the phrasing.

"I _trust_ you." Jazz whispered, admitting something that was very dangerous for him. "Even with my spark, and now I'm glad I did."

That distracted Prowl and created a rich glow of pleasure through his field as he leaned in to kiss Jazz softly. "Please tell me you don't merge for duty often."

"I merge as often as I must, and more than I want to." Jazz admitted, and Prowl's field turned cold with distress. "Training was not fun."

Training had driven him to mentally separate himself from his spark- a very difficult thing for him to do.

"Training?" Prowl's voice trembled with the horror of the concept.

"You know what I am, what I do, lover." Jazz said quietly. "Torture is expected, any and all forms that can be imagined. Off-limits, unethical, forbidden- those are the words of politicians and politics. They don't exist in my world. "

"I know, I just ... I never contemplated that you might be asked to use your _spark_ for that," Prowl whispered.

Long familiar with his lover's subtle shifts in field and tone, Jazz couldn't help but feel relieved that the horror was because it was being asked of _Jazz_ , not the act itself. He reached around his lover's frame, stroking the sensor wings soothingly. "I have often wished to say no. But we're not always given what we wish for."

Jazz knew that Prowl, of all mecha, would understand what he was saying.

"After tonight though, I'd like to maybe use my spark a little more often." He suggested, hopeful.

"I would like that as well," Prowl purred at the thought, both of the pleasure and of giving Jazz a perspective of what it was supposed to be. "You deserve to know what it is meant to be, what a merge is when it is not a weapon."

"It will be different." Jazz purred with a kiss. "Was merging something you did often?"

"With those I was close to," Prowl nodded. "Trust is something different between Enforcers. We're hard coded not to harm each other. While more intimate, spark-play is considered just as safe as spike-valve or hardline. I'm unusual in that I have strong resistance to hardline by coding, to protect both myself and my lover from my tac-net."

"I can live without that. With everything else that you give me." Jazz purred, kissing Prowl and snuggling closer to his lover in contentment. Prowl purred at the good mood and acceptance and snuggled closer as well. Their fields still meshed from the merge, both settled into a welcome recharge.

* * *

Jazz was still scuffed up from his mission. He hadn't expected it to be an oil cake walk, but it had turned out rougher than he expected, and he couldn't help but think that someone had leaked his location. None of the other agents had this kind of trouble regularly, but Jazz was having a rough enough time that Whiplash was seriously talking about pulling him from field work. As good as Jazz was at most anything they sent him on -- sabotage, undercover, assassination, spying, interrogation -- his work with Prowl was still considered more valuable.

Jazz knew that his lover would not be upset if Jazz wasn't going out on as many missions. It would mean having his lover closer more often, and Jazz not being in as much danger. In theory, at least.

With a sigh Jazz side-tracked to grab himself some energon. He had a report to make, but he needed fuel. He needed recharge and some Prowl time as well, but those would have to wait until after his work was done.

Fuel he could have now though.

He slipped into the nearest rec-room, still-active reflexes keeping him in the shadows with a sense of relief when no one seemed to notice him. He collected his energon, his audials open to the conversations. Most were filtered to review by programs rather than his active processors, but Prowl's designation kicked one table's talk to the forefront.

"I can't believe someone hasn't shot it yet. Who in their right processors takes orders from a _drone_."

Jazz slipped into stealth mode, coming right up behind the mech who had spoken without making a sound. His field was still, pulled in tight so as not to give him away and making the moment he growled all the more effective. "Mecha who have any interest in continuing to function listen to a good _mech_ who knows his duty and carries it out."

The mech he was behind jerked forward with a shocked screech from his vocalizer as the rest of the table shifted, in part startled, the rest to avoid the table getting shoved into them. Not one, not even the one facing him, had seen Jazz come up.

The one Jazz spoke directly to whirled on him, armor flared and locked down in a typical warrior response as he growled. "That _thing_ from Praxus is no mecha!"

"He's more mech than you are, if that's what you really think." Jazz replied, voice going deceptively calm and even as he stood straight, meeting the other square in the optics and not giving a millimeter of ground.

"And how would you know?"

"He is my _friend_. A concept I am starting to think you don't understand at all." Jazz remarked, unimpressed. 

"So you made friends with a drone. You 'face'm too?" the mech sneered, just as unimpressed by Jazz's reason. "It makes a good berth toy?"

Stress, exhaustion, the relief of being back in the safety of the base- it had weakened Jazz's control already, and under the final question Jazz snapped.

Energon was forgotten as his fist came around faster than the mech in front of him could follow. One second there was a smug face in his own, the next a prone figured spread over a table.

"Hay!" one of the mech's friends cried out as the others rushed him. Jazz could read their intent: pin and pound until an officer arrived.

Well, fine. If a fight is what they wanted, he would give them one. The smaller mech was still until the first one reached him, then he exploded into a furious whirlwind of violence, dodging most of the attacks and landing two strikes for each one thrown his way. He didn't register opponents or anything else until he hit something hard enough to crack his fist. Large hands grabbed him and the next thing he knew he was pinned and Whiplash was barking a freeze command at him.

Conditioning to obey that command and the voice that issued it beyond all else had him limp and compliant under the massive weight holding him down. It still took almost a full klik for the fight reaction to clear enough for him to focus on the small, dark mech.

"Hey boss." He managed, suddenly so tired he didn't really care how the dark mech took the greeting at the moment.

Whiplash plugged into a main port and barely waited for Jazz to voluntarily lower his firewalls. Memories and coding was riffled through roughly before the mech backed out. "You can let him up. I'll take him for a processor eval and debriefing. I'll deal with his punishment as well."

"Right," Ironhide wasn't pleased, but he let Jazz up anyway.

With a groan Jazz got to his pedes, and finally looked around the room. There were five mecha down, plus the first one that he had laid out across the table. Over-all it was a lovely mess, and Jazz only hid his sense of satisfaction because the of the massive bulk of Ironhide still looming over him.

"Come on you," Whiplash grabbed him. "Pray to Primus you didn't critically damage any of them, and you're going back in a training cue if any of them live."

"That's contradictory you know." Jazz said he followed along obediently. "And what if I didn't want to deactivate them?"

"And why would you not want to deactivate?" Whiplash gave his subordinate a hard look.

"Prowl's gonna be upset enough that I attacked allies." Jazz informed his commander. "If I'd deactivated any of them he might not forgive me. Or more accurate- his code might not let him."

Whiplash hummed, nodded at the information and what it said of his agent's deep-coded priorities.

* * *

Jazz paced the cell, restless and bored. For appearance sake his actions demanded a public punishment, and brig time was something that other mecha saw, and would travel the rumor mill at the speed of a lightbeam transmission.

While requiring serious repair- Jazz would swear he had heard Ratchet swearing in the med bay across the base from where he was confined- none of them were in any danger of deactivating. Which made him want to complain that five orns of solitary was excessive, even though he knew that they could have easily sentenced him with three times as much and still been well within acceptable limits.

Each step echoed and made him growl. He wanted out. 

He wanted to rest and recharge in the arms of his lover. Primus, he wanted contact with another functioning mecha, period!

At least he had his internal music recordings, even if his comm and radio were all disabled. Oh, he could turn then back on, but Whiplash would know and the remedial combat training he was still in for would get that much worse. Of course they'd left his chronometer fully functioning so he could check on it as he wished. Jazz knew better than to check and had the will to not look.

He continued to pace, growling about the unfairness of it all, when he heard the door slide open. He froze in the middle of the room, perfectly still as a large guard entered the room. Jazz barely spared him a look, attention centered on the Praxian that entered behind the guard.

"Ready to go?" Prowl asked blandly.

"Yes. Yes. Yes-yes-yes-yes." Jazz said, quivering where he was standing. He wanted to move, so bad, but he knew better than to approach Prowl before he was given permission.

"The come," Prowl turned and waved for Jazz to follow. A quick check-out and then they were headed right for Prowl's quarters.

Jazz was the quiet for the walk, though he couldn't stop himself from reaching out with his field, desperate to teek his lover and trying to feel if Prowl was angry at him. The sensation that came back was mixed. There was no anger, but Prowl was upset, and just as desperate for Jazz's attention from the way his field latched onto Jazz's. He was also aroused, and lonely, and wanted Jazz desperately.

It was enough for Jazz apologize as soon as they were alone in the privacy of Prowl's quarters, holding out his hands to his lover in question and invitation. "I'm sorry."

Prowl caught him in an embrace and finally the fear began to unfurl in his field. "What ever possessed you to fight over some words?" Prowl's voice was tight.

Jazz field flared against Prowl, full of possessive anger. "You are doing your Primus-blessed best to keep them functioning, and have the glitch-based gall to call ya a drone!"

"Didn't care for them wondering why no one's shot ya yet, even if they were just words." He added with a growl as he held Prowl close.

"Shu," Prowl whispered against Jazz's audial as he held his lover. "At least tell me you won't assault others under normal conditions."

"Nah." Jazz assured him, already starting to relax in Prowl's arms. "Shouldn't happen again. I've got new after-mission marching orders. Someone will be escorting me to debriefing as soon as I get back now."

Prowl nodded, relaxing with relief. "As difficult as your sentence was for you, it was nearly as torturous to me to have you on base and not be allowed to even speak with you. I never want to face that again. I understand missions and training, but this was so avoidable."

"Then it won't happen again, at least not for some reason like that." Jazz promised, that revelation being filed away and factored into his future actions automatically. There was an entire compartment of his processor devoted to Prowl, part of it for his mission, but most of it any more for his lover.

Prowl relaxed further, and slowly began to tremble with relief and from built-up tension. "Good. I hate knowing you're caged."

"Caged? That pretty much sums it up." Jazz chuckled, stroking his lover's frame gently and drinking in how deeply Prowl must care for him to react so strongly. It wasn't just missing him, it was the why too, and that meant caring about _Jazz_. "I do it again, for you." He added quietly as he nuzzled Prowl.

"As honored as I am, I hope you never feel the need to," Prowl melted at the attention, and slowly began to purr as he tugged Jazz towards the berth. "But defending my honor should have a reward, and you've only been punished so far."

"A reward sounds nice." Jazz agreed as he fell on to the berth, groaning in pleasure as the soft padding caught and cradled his frame. "Just being back here with you is a reward, you know."

"Well, you can always take being in my berth with me as your reward," Prowl teased him, trying not to grin as his fingers teased down to Jazz's spike cover.

"Not until you tell me _exactly_ what you have in mind." Jazz countered, reaching up to stroke Prowl's face, teasing the edge of the Praxian's mouth to try and draw that smile out. 

It came willingly enough. "Myself, any and every way you want me until I have to clean up for my shift."

"Ride me? Smile at me. Let me feel that you want me, and want me here." Jazz requested, fingers continuing to trace Prowl's faceplates as asked.

"Gladly and honestly," Prowl pressed into the touch lightly before he moved down to kiss Jazz's spike cover. "Open for me, let me entice you to pressure."

"You're different when you smile." Jazz commented as the cover slid away, granting Prowl access to the spike hidden below it. "It looks good on you, when you mean them like you just did." he continued, one hand rising to run gentle fingers along the edge of a doorwing still in his reach. "I love seeing you like that."

"I will try to remember to do so more often. It is not part of Enforcer basic coding," Prowl said before giving a kiss, then long, slow lick around the spike housing before him. His doorwings pressed into Jazz's hands and how much he enjoyed bring Jazz pleasure was alive in his field.

The soft moan that escaped Jazz washed over him, the spike that was his focus already slipping free. "You don't smile at each other?"

"Not normally," Prowl answered before focusing on the spike's tip, kissing and swirling around the intensely sensitive metal with his glossa. "Enforcers aren't much on facial expressions."

"Use these- more- I guess?" Jazz asked brokenly as he stroked and lightly pinched the edge of a sensor wing, almost distracted from the conversation by the talent of his lover.

Prowl hummed and pulled back a bit to answer. "Enforcers do not normally use physical signals with each other. We use teeking and spoken language."

Jazz hummed softly as he fell back on the berth, spread before his lover. He extended his field slowly, wrapping Prowl in it deeply before deliberately channeling the pleasure Prowl was giving him back into the other. It drew a moan from Prowl as he went to work again, lowering his helm and talking the half-extended spike all the way into his mouth until his lip plates touched the housing. He used them to stimulate the sensitive ring of metal while his glossa worked to coax the spike the rest of the way out to where his intake could work it.

"Primus Prowl- don't want anyone else doing that but you." Jazz admitted, his entire frame quivering as his spike pressurized for his lover.

A flush of pride-arousal, a genuine response at pleasing his lover, surged into Prowl's field and encouraged him. He was almost reluctant to draw back and allow the now-hard spike to slide from between his lips.

"Come lover." Jazz encouraged softly, taking the reprieve to settle himself a bit, drawing Prowl up for a kiss as one hand strayed down to the Praxian's valve cover. He found it already open, hot and slick inside when Prowl angled his hips in for more of that touch while their glossa tangled.

Gentle fingers tested the valve, one slipping inside to tease a sensor nodes as others played along the surrounding platelets, intent on driving his lover to even higher levels of desire and want. It wasn't difficult. As Jazz had learned early, there was little that felt good that Prowl didn't enjoy fully. The mech had his kinks just like everyone, but he was even more open to forms of pleasure than Jazz himself. It was amazing to Jazz, the thought that someone who really did do a good drone impression in public had such a varied and open interface life.

Prowl moaned, his valve tightening around the intruding fingers as he rocked against them.

"They'll never see what I get to see, because they aren't willing to look." Jazz whispered before claiming another kiss and withdrawing his fingers, the desire for that hot valve around his spike so very strong.

"I'm glad you are," Prowl moaned deeply as he sank down to sheath his lover's spike, reveling in the slide and fullness just as much as Jazz reveled in the slick heat and tightness.

"Beautiful, lover." Jazz praised, hands rubbing along the thighs of the mech straddling him, optics taking in the full spread of his lover on display, a pleasure just as intense in the moment as the heat around his spike. Prowl and putting himself on display were not as mutually exclusive as many would think, though it was a muted display. Still, the pleasure echoed in his features, the spread of doorwings and the shameless movements that brought them both pleasure was bliss to watch.

"Go." Jazz encouraged, one hand sliding up from Prowl's thigh to play over the Praxian's spike cover. It slid open immediately, Prowl's willing submission to anything his lover wanted. "Look at me. Smile for me."

It took Prowl a moment to organize the response, but his optics powered on and focused on Jazz's face while he found the settings for a smile and got that to his lip plates.

"Is it so hard?" The length in the response time had not gone unnoticed, Jazz's field playing against his lover's, pushing into to Prowl with each rise and fall of the Praxian's frame.

"No," Prowl moaned in pleasure, the smile staying in place. "Simply unfamiliar to do intentionally."

"Well, maybe I can convince it to be a response you enjoy, some orn." Jazz replied as his hips rolled up to meet Prowl, pressing his spike as deep into his lover as he could and shuddering at the feeling of being desired so much.

Prowl's doorwings shivered with the pleasure that was thick in his field. Not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional pleasure of being wanted by one he had linked to as _unit_ in his processors. "I ... believe I would like that."

"Good, but for now-" Jazz ran his hands down Prowl's sides, slender fingers sinking into the Praxian's hips. It earned him a low, pleasure-rich moan and Prowl focused on manipulating the spike in his valve as he moved up and down as well as putting on a bit of a show for his lover. There was a feel of willing surrender from Jazz as he sank back, optics following his lover's face as each motion of lover drew a moan from his throat. "Yes, lover, want to fill you. Want to see you too. So good. So very worth everything."

The last few words almost didn't make it out before Jazz's visor flared brightly, his helm falling back and his frame arching up, driving into his lover as he emptied into the welcoming valve. Above him Prowl moaned, shuddering as he continued to move, drawing out his lover's overload.

Jazz gasped softly when he came around, the intensity of Prowl's charge hot against him. He knew just from the next sound that escaped the Praxian that Prowl had been waiting so he could watch Prowl overload.

It was a game they had discovered early on, and one that Jazz was particularly fond of. Just the sight of Prowl in pleasure was enough to make his spark jump. The feel of his lover lost in bliss was even more intense, and Jazz took in every nanoklik of his lover's overload until Prowl slumped forward, only just managing to hold himself upright with shaking arms.

"Never get tired of that," Prowl murmured, his optics still off and face pleasure-lax.

Jazz reached up, drawing Prowl's helm close enough for a tender kiss. "Neither do I. But now for the rest of my reward- when you are recovered I would like to feel your spark against mine. Then recharge in my lovers arms."

"I very much like that plan," Prowl purred deeply.

* * *

::Feel like stopping for a treat? The Rust Stick on the way back to base, and we still have a little time.:: Jazz asked he and Prowl made their way through the streets of Iacon from the outskirts of the city.

It was a bit of a drive and required getting extra time for Prowl to be out cleared, but the large track and park complex on the edge of the city limits was a favorite of both mechs, and Prowl always teeked so much more content after a visit that Jazz strove to make it happen as often as he could.

::I would enjoy that,:: Prowl actually purred over the comm, delighting in any excuse to enjoy time with his lover.

::Going to be brave and try something new this time?:: Jazz teased over the comm as he altered his course to include their new destination, crossing several lanes of traffic with ease and having no doubt of Prowl keeping up with him. Even without the advantage of processor power, the mech was an Enforcer, and a skilled one at that.

::Perhaps,:: Prowl chuckled. ::It depends on what is available.::

"Picky, picky." Jazz continued to tease as he transformed in front of the shop and headed for the door. The small cafe and sweet shop was one that he had stumbled upon by accident. A very good sort of accident, as it turned out, since the place had become one of his favorites.

"Want to enjoy the goodies here, or get them go?" He asked as the door slid away and the pair stepped into a place filled with happy customers and the most amazing smells. "Either way I planned to get a mixed box for _later_."

"If I'm picky, you are insatiable," Prowl's tone was full of good humor as they got in line. "If we have time, I like it here."

"We do." Jazz agreed as they reached the front of the line and motioned Prowl to order first, taking the opportunity to subtly brush one of the Praxian's sensor wings as Prowl moved past. He couldn't be surprised when Prowl ordered his usual; one sweet and sour pastry and a small box of half a dozen acidic hard candies.

After Prowl paid, Jazz ordered. "Half a dozen rust sticks, and a mixed box of those sweet, random flavors." he pulled out his credit stick and passed it over for payment.

They found a table and settled down to enjoy the treats. "You really do love acidic things, don't you?"

"I do, and it leaves more for the majority who enjoy sweets," Prowl smiled and motioned towards Jazz. "Mine are at a steep discount because demand is low and the flavorants are relatively plentiful."

Jazz's visor flickered as he offered a mocking sigh, his field teeking of amusement and affection in contrast to his actions. With a smile he broke an end off of a rust stick and tossed it in the air, tipping his helm back to catch it with practiced ease.

Before he could look back at his lover there was a crash from outside, and then the front glass of the shop shattered inward, sending customers into a panic. Prowl was on his pedes, Enforcer duty blaster drawn as he rushed towards the commotion. He recognized weapons and bellowed. "Freeze! Drop your weapons!"

There was another loud bang accompanied by a flash that sent civilians into a panic again as mecha scattered, ignoring Prowl's orders.

Without another word, Prowl fired back. With his full processor locked onto the singular action of predicting movement and fractional shifts in aim, the universe seemed to slow to a thousandth of its natural speed. Actions that took a nanoklik spread out over detailed, clear thoughts, choices and calculations that resulted in a precision shot through the nearest shooter's primary neural cable in his neck. It felt like a full klik of thought and calculated movements before he fired the second shot, just as perfect, through the second assailant's neck.

Neither of them were getting back up again any time soon, and already he could hear the sirens in the distance as other units responded to the commotion. For the most part the civilians had finally scattered and taken cover, most doing their level best to stay out of sight.

Behind him in the shop there were still cries and some commotion as injured mecha caught in the damage were seen, and there were several calls for medical transports.

It was only in that moment that Prowl consciously registered that Jazz wasn't at his side and he focused on finding his companion, a mech that he knew was supposed to be his guard. The limp frame of his companion was still sprawled beside the table where they had been sitting, the blue visor just starting to flicker back to functioning. Prowl was at his side in a few strides, hands seeking the damage as he pinged in that he had an Ops agent down.

There was a nasty burn mark starting at the side of his helm and spreading down his arm and side, clearly visible once Prowl rolled him over.

An aggressive field flared against his own, quickly followed by recognition and then calm. "Some-I am. - fail." Jazz tried to speak, the sounds issuing from his vocalizer full of static and lacking all of his usual rhythm and inflection.

"I would counter that. You provided a distraction for them so I could take them down. Not my preferred results, but it was viable," Prowl countered as he made short work of ensuring Jazz was stabilized and installed a pain blocker. "I'm going to assist others. Just yell if you need me."

Jazz grunted, his field still teeking of failure and self-disgust as Prowl left. He struggled to turn his helm and follow his lover, only calming a fraction as other law enforcement officers and emergency response staff arrived.

The senior responder noticed Prowl and flagged him down for a report. They talked for entirely too long, but it couldn't have been that long because they'd finished before the Autobot contingent, medics, warriors and a transport, arrived. After that, Jazz saw Ratchet, heard him snarling, and then was dropped into stasis.

* * *

Booting up was slow, out of order and full of aches. It was all Jazz needed to know about just how bad off he was. For a single shot, it must have hit half his primary systems.

Thank Primus Prowl was just as calm and dangerous under fire as Jazz was.

It was a painfully slow process, but one that Jazz allowed to continue at it's own speed. Experience had taught him that Ratchet would yell at him if he did otherwise. Still, as soon as he could he let his attention drift from the streams of corrections and repairs scrolling across his internal feed and let his field reach out, teeking for others. The first it encountered was a tense but slowly relaxing Prowl that responded by surging forward to meet and mingle with a blush of intense relief. On the other side was the more reserved field of the medic.

Jazz focused on Prowl, ignoring the other presence he easily identified as Ratchet for the time being. The medic would want his attention once he was done booting, but for the moment he simply concentrated on his lover, field brushing against Prowl's in a mixture of concern and affection. It didn't take long to work out the tension wasn't from repairs or damage or work stress. This was very personal and completely emotional.

Prowl was stressed because Jazz was injured.

That also meant that the tension was draining fast. It wasn't long before a familiar hand began to gently rub circles around a sensor horn. Any intention Jazz had of switching his focus to Ratchet once he had booted vanished as he relaxed into a purring mech, helm tilting into the touch. "Lover." He purred softly as his vocalizer came online, and his visor lit to focus on the Praxian standing over him.

"I'm glad to have you aware again," Prowl replied softly, his field warm with affection and the lingering worry of Jazz's damage. "I'm afraid you will be here for some time, however."

"Eeeeeew." Jazz grumbled at the news. "How bad was it Doc?"

"As far as spark-threatening, it never really was given you were in the city," Ratchet didn't hide his gratitude at that. "As far as damage, between the shot and the shrapnel, I had to repair three major neural lines, your backstrut in two places, your central gyro, most of your left wrist, the sensor horn that Prowl has not stopped rubbing since you teeked coherent, and your entire left shoulder mount. Don't do that again."

"Didn't want to do it this time." Jazz sighed, finally attempting to move on his own. Slowly he lifted his left arm, the entire limb moving stiffly up touch Prowl, who reached out with his free arm to meet Jazz half way. Their fingers interlaced, and lowered to Jazz's chest.

"That doesn't change the order," Ratchet huffed. "You'll be here for most of a decaorn, and in rehab for longer. Don't expect to leave base for the better part of a metacycle."

Jazz groaned again, not looking forward to the rest of the healing process. "We'll have to find someone else to take you out." He commented quietly, squeezing Prowl's hand where it was joined to his, more concerned for his lover than himself. He wasn't looking forward to the rehab. Nor was he looking forward to the discussion he was sure was coming with his boss as soon as they were alone. But as difficult as it was going to be for him, he suspected it was going to be worse for Prowl.

"I'll manage," Prowl promised. "There is a great deal of work to be done right now. I can easily lose myself for orns in it. That, recharge and keeping your spark up will occupy me well enough."

"Just you being here will be enough." Jazz whispered, field brushing against Prowl again, teeking the difference in his lover and slowly dissecting it. He couldn't help but smile at the groan from Ratchet.

"Yes, yes, he can be here. But you two are going to keep the mush under control. Understand?"

"We understand," Prowl promised. "How effective we are at such an effort remains to be seen, however."

Ratchet growled at them, but the warning sound held little real threat. He pushed his way in, scanning Jazz over and checking the monitors and read-outs. "Well, for now things are reading good. I'll be back to check on you after I make a round. Nothing stupid while I'm gone."

"That you can count on," Prowl promised, turning his full focus onto Jazz when Ratchet was gone. "I need to check on a few things, and your boss wants to talk to you. I'll be back in a joor or so," he whispered around a soft kiss.

"Love." Jazz whispered just as softly as he released Prowl's hand, reluctant but understanding.

He didn't speak again until the door closed behind the Praxian. "'ello boss."

"You know, for not having been in the fight, you sure got mangled," Whiplash said as he stepped out of the pale shadow he'd somehow blended into. "Though I must admit watching that Praxian fight is impressive."

Jazz chuckled softly. "And the thing is, no one here has every really seen him in _action_."

"Oh really?" Whiplash raised an optic ridge. "And you have?"

"Oh sure. When's he's hot in the berth, dominating and - oh wait, that's not what you were asking." Jazz smirked, then grew more serious. "When we were shot down that time, we had a couple teams on our tail. Suffice it to say we weren't being followed when we finally reached the base. Prowl is very deadly."

"Yes, that," Whiplash hummed. "I must admit, the show he gives on vid does not come through in the reports well. Interesting, however what I really came here to talk about is what we've leaned from the pair he took down. Perfect shots through the main datacord, but the way."

"Prowl rarely tolerates anything else than perfection." Jazz said, then shifted his helm so he could see Whiplash better. "What did they want? Were they after Prowl?"

There was a dangerous edge in the questions, Jazz taking any threat to his lover seriously, and very personal.

"Yes, they were," Whiplash nodded. "You were targeted first because they saw you as the greater threat. Prowl's guard. So we've done well in selling that, since he clearly doesn't need a guard. What I haven't gotten from them yet is how they could have known where you were. Is this a regular stop after the racetrack?"

"No. Actually, it was a last klik thing. There was time after our runs at the track, and I asked Prowl if he wanted to stop for a treat." Jazz said, relaying the sequence of events as they happened.

"So they were either waiting for the trip when you did stop by, were following you, or got intel as fast as you developed it," Whiplash grumbled. "And the issue of how they knew you were headed out at all."

"Prowl's outings are cleared with Tactical, Ops, and high command. Other than that mecha would pretty much have to see us leave or see us out to know that he is off base." Jazz concluded.

"Which amounts to more mecha than not," Whiplash sighed. "I know you don't always go the same places, for the same amount of time or on the same path."

"Honestly, about the only way would be to track us from when we left the base, or at the latest when we left the track," Jazz knew this was going to get ugly and fast. "Just how good is our anti-Seeker net?"

"Good, or so I understood." Whiplash responded grimly, and his tone hinted that he would be looking into it anyway. And that helms might be rolling depending on what he found out. "Neither of you noticed a tail?"

"No, and we're both careful. Think they have a bigger network than we knew?" Jazz asked, just as grim. His lover was going to be getting all of the info that Jazz found out. As unhappy as it tended to make some of the higher-ups, Prowl was best at planning his own protection when he was given the chance.

"Honestly, it seems more likely than that both of you were careless," Whiplash admitted. "It would make far more sense if it had been staged or near the track. At least that's a common destination." He shook his helm. "Anything you can add before I go back to chat with our guests?"

Jazz growled as the suggestion that either of them had been careless, the idea irritating even if Whiplash didn't sound very convinced of the idea himself. Then when a tired sigh he answered the question he was directly asked. "No. But I woudn' mind being filled in on what you find out."

"You will be. If for no other reason that it is information you will need to start taking into account," Whiplash promised, his tone still grim. "I don't see you being off Prowl-guarding duties anytime soon."

"You have a replacement?" Jazz asked, trying to hide his tension at the mere ides, and wondering just what sort of shape his processor was currently in that he was even asking.

"If it's required, of course," Whiplash looked a bit surprised at the question. "We can't afford to lose him."

"Better question- will you replace me short of me deactivating?"

"If you can't do the job anymore," Whiplash shrugged. "I'm not seeing that happen."

Jazz grunted again, frustrated, though he hadn't expected much of a different answer. "Thanks."

"What's really eating at you, Jazz?" The black shadow of a mech asked quietly.

"Prowl's my friend. If you're serious about keeping him functioning if something happens to me, you need to get someone else in deeper. I can't promise what he'll do with someone new. Or what I'll do." Jazz said, his tone much more even and calm and then his spark. "Truth? I love him. From the spark."

"So you're finally ready to admit it," Whiplash relaxed a bit. "Though given what happened it seems you'll be assigned to base duties until the current threat is found and dealt with. Maybe longer."

"Glitch-chip." Jazz commented as he laid back on the berth, visor going dim as he relaxed. "I can handle being 'grounded'." If nothing else it meant potentially more time with Prowl, and Jazz was greedy enough to take as much of that as he could get.

He didn't exactly hear Whiplash leave, but he knew when the mech was gone all the same.


	6. An Unexpected Promotion

When Jazz dropped into Prowl's office he was already well aware of the events of the orn. The entire base was. It might not be official yet, but everyone knew it. It was times like this that Jazz had to truly admire Autobot scuttlebutt. It moved faster than any news or Ops agent and was nearly as persistent.

What he wasn't expecting was to see his lover, the new Chief Tactical Officer of the Autobots, sitting at his desk and looking completely shell-shocked.

"Lover?" He questioned gently as he crossed from the door to around Prowl's desk and started to message tense sensor wings. It was an open invitation to talk, to work things through out loud if Prowl wanted. The crackle of Prowl's field against Jazz's fingers was enough to warn him that whatever had Prowl so jacked up wasn't going to be an easy fix.

"Prime ... I ... it's Chief Tactical Officer Prowl now. Second in Command to the Prime," Prowl somehow managed to sputter out what he was struggling with.

"I know love. It's all over base already." Jazz continued to rub as Prowl cringed. His field reaching out to brush over Prowl with a rich mix of feelings and emotions. Love, support, pride, trust, and confidence were chief among them. It met something between abject horror and terror that ran core deep, and a hardening that Prowl was not happy about. "The change will be hard for you to make, I know. But it is something to be proud of, love. And your influence can only grow, if you handle it right." He encouraged

"My influence? Why would I want greater influence?" Prowl looked up. "It's not as if the one mecha who can make a difference will listen to me no matter my supposed rank."

"We'll work on him." Jazz promised. "Yours is not the only voice, and there are others that are starting to back you more. And I am here for you."

"This goes well beyond what I'm coded to do," Prowl murmured quietly. "I wasn't designed to peddle social influence."

"Then let someone else do it for you, love. Some of us are rather good at, last time I checked." Jazz's hands worked down the wings, up Prowl's backstrut to his neck. "Can you let go of that? Trust me?"

"Yes," Prowl's tone was nearly a moan as he began to relax, the shocked panic fading gradually. He still wasn't happy with his promotion, but with Jazz's support he could manage it.

"So were you surprised when they took Sonar down?" Jazz asked, not really suspecting his lover to have been caught much off-guard by it, but curious to know how much Prowl had suspected.

"I was surprised that enough proof was found," Prowl said as he leaned into Jazz's touch and presence. "I knew he was putting you in danger for some time."

"Guess he finally ticked too many mecha off doing it. Took down three Decepticon agents that he spilled on too." Jazz informed Prowl, adding in tidbits that were not common knowledge of the scuttle-butt running rampant across the base.

"Good," Prowl purred at that. "Any of them wearing an Autobot brand?"

"One. Mech by the designation of Shortstint. I don't think there is going to be much of him left after it is all over." Jazz commented, pleased with how his lover was finally calming, almost melting, under the attention.

"Good," Prowl's voice was a vindictive growl. "Treason should not be subject to our Prime's morals. Laws exist for good reason."

"They do. And even he works through the system, as broken as it is, to change them if he disagrees usually." Jazz said, kissing the back of Prowl's neck gently where it was exposed as the Praxian leaned forward. "My boss doesn't think the Prime needs to know all that goes on to keep him safe, and would rather just leave it at that. So on a different note, when I am cleared to leave the base again, where are we going?"

"Racing, please," Prowl groaned in a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. "Haven't been racing since you were shot."

"Racing it is then." Jazz agreed with a smile, his field going soft against Prowl with a hint of sadness. "You could have gone out you know. There are others approved to accompany you."

"None I trust to handle themselves," Prowl leaned and pressed his field to mingle more deeply with Jazz's. "None I _want_ to go out with."

"Love." Jazz whispered, pressing against the Praxian's back, willing to lose himself in that field, in the calm and welcome that was Prowl with someone he cared for. Tension that Jazz had been holding on to drained away. It might be a very minor victory, but at least one threat to his lover had been removed.

Prowl reached up to stroke a stubby sensor horn. "Yes, lover. We'll get to go outside together soon."

"But until then...how long until you are going to call this shift over?" Jazz asked, melting into the touch.

"I ... think it's been over since I learned of my promotion," Prowl murmured, relaxing into welcome contact. "I won't be getting any more work done until I've processed and adjusted my protocols."

"Then we should get you fuel, and you will tell me what I can do to help." Jazz said lightly, straightening a bit as his hands drifted back out to the relaxed sensor wings.

"Fuel, berth, hold me while I process and defrag." Prowl hummed, willingly compliant to his lover. It was a relief to simply follow orders for a while, knowing the giver wasn't going to abuse his desire to simply drift.

"Fuel in one of the common areas, or fuel in your quarters?" Jazz asked as he moved around to guide Prowl to his feet, nudging the Praxian's chair into his desk with a foot once Prowl was out of the way.

"My quarters," Prowl said a bit too quickly for it to be at all neutral.

Simple agreement met his choice as Jazz walked by his lover's side, possessive and protective against the curious looks that were cast Prowl's way on their journey. Jazz could all but read the looks: even as our SIC the mech needed a keeper. Prowl was standing strait and walking true, not looking as dazed as he teeked at close range, but it would be a long, hard fight to bring the rank and file on board. The first step that that, though, was getting Prowl on board.

Jazz chatted about nothing as they walked in and got their energon. He caught a few sympathetic looks from mecha who assumed that his duties as Prowl's handler had just gotten a lot heavier, but he ignored those and only exchanged greetings with those who greeted him.

The escape was at Prowl's pace, and was nearly too fast to be reasonable. Only after they were safe behind the locked door to Prowl's quarters did the mech seem to relax a fraction, and Jazz placed a hand on his lover's lower back, guiding Prowl to the berth.

Once Prowl was settled Jazz set both cubes of energon on a small stand and reached into his subspace. A packet of additives was mixed into one cube, shifting the color slightly and giving the energon a sweet, spicy scent.

"Here lover. See how that tastes." Jazz said with a smile as he offered the cube to Prowl and settled on the berth with his own.

"You always mix it perfectly," Prowl smiled, an honest smile, and sipped on the cube with a happy sound. "You always take such good care of me."

"I like taking care of you." Jazz replied with a happy laugh, snuggling against Prowl's side. "You make it easy, lover, being so predictable."

"Most civilians find Enforcers stuck up and intolerant," Prowl murmured with a nuzzle as they settled into a comfortable position that allowed as much frame contact as possible while still being easy to drink their energon.

"Probably because few civilians encounter Enforcers when they are not on duty, or out with other Enforcers. Or even worse, on the wrong side of an Enforcer." Jazz reflected. "As a whole you are a rather exclusive bunch, lover."

There was no judgment in the observations, just the statement of simple facts from the point of the speaker.

"It is true," Prowl acknowledged easily. "We were a society separate from those we protected and patrolled. Purpose-sparked mecha rarely mixed with purposeless mecha. Too little in common; it was always easier and less stressful to simply remain with our own kind, our own culture. The contract clauses that strongly discouraged mingling socially with outsiders were largely unnecessary."

"Maybe even necessary, to maintain the respect and command that Enforces need to have." Jazz agreed, sipping slowly at his energon. "Are there any changes that you would suggest to the Prime as far as law enforcement is concerned, for after the war?"

"To make it _far_ more difficult to permanently transfer an Enforcer out of their intended function," Prowl almost growled. "I understand there can be need. I was not _needed_ in Praxus."

"They just moved ya because you were a good fit." Jazz sighed, sympathy and as much understanding as he could managing shining through as his free hand reached up gently rub the Praxian's chevron shield. The calming and soothing effect it had never ceased to amaze Jazz as Prowl's optics drifted off with a content not-quite-sound. It wasn't quite the reaction that Jazz's sensor horns produced, since a different touch or different mood could turn Prowl's chevron erotic, but in this state it was similar enough to get Prowl to all but melt down until his helm was in Jazz's lap and his engine was purring.

"I'm a terrible fit. My skills were effective," Prowl corrected languidly.

"Your skills were a good fit. You were terrible." Jazz said, finally twisting it around in a way that they both might agree on as his field drifted out to wrap Prowl in contentment. He loved it when Prowl was like this, warm and calm against him. It was a peace that Jazz craved, and that he found nowhere else in his functioning.

There were members of Ops who would have spent time with him. Might have been willing to develop a relationship with him. There were mecha outside of his own division that had expressed interested in him as well. But the Praxian sprawled against him was special. Jazz had earned this trust, had it given in return, and this very unique mech had accepted him as one of his own. It gave Jazz a _home_ he hadn't had in a very, very long time. It was more of a home even than when Whiplash had taken him in, claimed him as his own and trained him personally. On a level, no matter how much personal attention Whiplash gave him, they both knew it was business.

This may have started as business, but it wasn't any more. Jazz may have begun under orders and Prowl accepted out of desperation, but they were both far past that now.

"What else can I do for you tonight, love?" Jazz asked softly, continuing to rub the chevron shield along the ridges as his other hand reached, a finger tracing down Prowl's chest plates over his spark, and then lower in question. If Prowl wanted, Jazz was happy to oblige. If all Prowl wanted was for Jazz to hold him as he recharged, Jazz would give that happily as well.

There was a lingering pause as Prowl contemplated the options. Memories of pleasure and comfort swirled with questions of what he really needed. Of what would help him adapt the fastest. The ceremony would be in less than thirty-six joors. He'd need to have his processors and coding prepared before then.

His field withdrew, uncertain and unsettled, but he spoke anyway. "Can you lend me your processors while we recharge?"

That was a new one, and Jazz tilted his helm to look down to where his lover was still sprawled in his lap. "Care to explain that a little more? Just curious."

"I have a tremendous amount of raw processing to do. It'll go faster, and thus I will have more actual rest, with more processor power," Prowl explained easily. "I ... trust you enough to allow the hardline."

"I figured it was something like that." Jazz smiled, main port opening to allow Prowl access. "Stay like this, or re-arrange? And I trust you to not let your firewalls shred me."

Prowl smiled, his field filling with warmth. "Thank you. I know trust doesn't come easy to you. You'll be uncomfortable when we boot if you stay like that."

"I've woken up worse, I'm sure. But how do you want to be then?" He leaned down and kissed his lover gently as the hardline was plugged in and the complicated handshakes and permissions set up.

"The way we typically recharge when I'm stressed," Prowl purred and shifted so Jazz could slide down the berth and tuck against his back.

The smaller mech complied, snuggling between the sensor wings and wrapping his arms around his lover, careful to not upset the cables between them as Prowl settled as well.

"Whatever you need." Jazz nuzzled the back of Prowls neck. "Just tell me what to do."

"Relax and let my processors send data and commands," Prowl relaxed into the contact, relishing the sensation of being shielded. "The less you try to look at it, the better."

"As you wish." Jazz sighed, content as he shut down higher processes and let his sensors stretch out, wrapping around Prowl protectively and letting the Praxian take the control he had asked for.


	7. Reclaiming Lives

Two thousand vorns of war had produced changes that not even Prowl had predicted. Their Prime had become a respectably skilled warrior, facing off against Megatron in battle time and again and coming away the nominal winner more often than not of late. Jazz had ascended to the position of SpecOps Commander and Autobot TIC, something that didn't surprise Prowl, because Whiplash stepped down to go back to his preferred function of assassin. That had surprised Prowl, but not Jazz so much.

Then there was what Prowl couldn't see, and not even Jazz was sure if it was willful ignorance, a coded inability or something broken. Even after so long, Prowl still couldn't grasp how much respect he had among both rank and file and the officers. For Prowl, the universe hadn't really changed after he'd accepted Jazz as his unit-mate.

He held his lover- his mate- close, savoring the feel of a calm and content Prowl. Evenings like these were rare these orns, and he knew that this one might be coming to an end soon enough.

Sometimes Jazz was able to frame things in ways the Praxian could understand when it came to how others saw him. More often than not though Jazz just let it slide. He was not convinced that Prowl's inability to understand wasn't somehow linked to the fact that understanding would cause the mech extreme distress. Even now, after so long, Prowl was uneasy about his rank.

Prowl was an amazing mech, but he was sparked, and sparked for a purpose that he functioned well in and adored. Working behind the scenes to keep those in his care well and functioning. Being so openly respected and revered must be bewildering and frustrating to the mech who functioned to serve in the background.

"You're thinking again," Prowl murmured with an affectionate nuzzle.

"About how amazing and wonderful you are." Jazz purred, tilting him helm to allow Prowl better access, welcoming the attention and affection and avoiding the difficult topics for just a little longer.

Prowl hummed, almost a purr, and the nuzzle turned sensual nibble. Jazz melted against his lover, field caressing Prowl's in rhythm with the gentle stroking of Jazz's hands over Prowl's frame. "We do need to talk love." He murmured, slightly regretful of the fact with the current mood.

"About what?" Prowl stilled, though he didn't pull away.

"We have a meeting with the Prime, love. We've been putting an argument together, and we need you to present it to him, and pray to Primus that this time we can convince him to end this war before it ends us all."

Prowl groaned. "It's that time again, so soon?"

"Yes, that time. Again. This time, I'll be with you. And this time, we think he'll listen. Things are getting worse Prowl, and we hope they've hit a threshold that will sway his wishes." Jazz said, continuing to stroke his lover with long, soothing touches as he spoke. It was easily the orn of each decade that Prowl dreaded the most, the confrontation with their Prime over long-term tactics and acceptable losses, and Jazz couldn't fault him for trying to put it out of his processor.

"I don't really have anything new to show him," Prowl sighed and pressed into the touch to take as much comfort as he could. "It's progressing as I assessed it would from my first in depth review."

"Yes, but it is proving your model right, and he has changed a lot since those first few meetings. He's seen the battlefield firsthand, and the aftermath." Jazz pointed out quietly. "You and I know how much a mech can change."

"It doesn't make it any easier to argue with him," Prowl sighed, resigned to his immediate fate. "When is the meeting?"

"Two orns from now." Jazz informed his mate. "He's en route to Iacon now from his last location, and it'll give him an orn to fuel and rest before you face him. Give's Ratchet time to give him an audiofull too."

Prowl couldn't suppress the chuckle at that. "Ratchet is a most effective ally, even if his threats are occasionally over the top of reasonable. Though two orns means that we have the evening to enjoy ourselves. There is little actual work to do for the presentation beyond working myself up for it."

"And I am yours, whatever you may need. There's no operations running that require my direct supervision at the moment." Jazz said as a finger traced rather seductively down Prowl's side.

Even after his own promotion, Jazz had refused to give his lover up. Prowl was part of the reason one of Jazz's first tasks had been to find a suitable second, and make sure that said second could take over in moment's notice if needed. Despite how stable Prowl was, he still had to deal with processors and a tac-net so finely balanced that could seize up on him with little warning, and the more normal needs of a lover for attention. Only when Prowl got to the point of asking for attention, he was already in critical need.

"Then berth, and I want your spark," Prowl rumbled eagerly.

"Lead the way lover, lead the way." Jazz purred, knowing that this was one of the few things Prowl did not mind at all being in charge of.

* * *

Optimus Prime dreaded these once a decade or so meetings at least as much as his Chief Tactical Officer. In no small part because he could see that the mech was telling the truth, and every vorn that passed bore more of those predictions out. But to sanction a plan that would condemn at least a quarter of the Autobots, most Decepticons and no small number of neutrals to be extinguished just to end a war?

Quietly he weighed the decision he faced in his spark, and felt the pressure of a presence far greater than himself bearing down on him. If this report went as Optimus was suspecting, it was going to be a difficult orn, and he was going to have make choices he never wanted to face. Once again he had to wonder why _he_ was chosen as Prime during a war. He was so ill-suited to it.

His thoughts continued to chase themselves around in such circles until the chime rang requesting admittance. Not that his SIC needed to, but Prowl was a being of routine and protocol almost as much as Optimus was not.

"Enter." He invited, prompting the door to open and admit his Chief Tactical Officer. He was not surprised as a shadow slipped in the door behind the Praxian, and behind his mask he smiled a little.

"Prowl. Jazz." He acknowledged the pair and motioned towards two waiting chairs, inviting them to be seated.

"Thank you, Prime," Prowl's reply was in an even more formal tone than usual. "I expect you are aware of the nature of the requested meeting."

"As are you, though I am sure you will inform me of it anyway." Optimus replied, trying to hide his own weariness and not at all sure that he was succeeding.

"We are both weary of the conversation, Prime," Prowl's differential tone and harmonics still managed to carry a stinging rebuke. "It is however my duty to protect what is left of this world. The only viable option anyone has presented is this one, unless I am unaware of something?"

"If you are unaware of it, then I am as well." Optimus sighed. "Proceed, please."

"The Autobots have now exceeded the losses predicted with my plan that could have ended the war two thousand sixteen vorns ago," Prowl said bluntly, even as he maintained his differential posture towards his commanding officer. "How many must deactivate before you are willing to authorize a plan that can win?"

Before them Optimus slumped back, a sign of how much he trusted those in the room with him, no matter ho often they butted helms over what they believed was the right path. "Not as many as you are projecting."

"Circumstances have changed. The Decepticons are far more entrenched, and become more so every vorn. Our resources and capabilities to attempt a creditable war-ending strike also decrease every vorn," Prowl pointed out calmly. "The only option to reduce Autobot casualties will dramatically increase civilian ones."

"Is there a way to change that? What plan would give us the fewest number of civilian casualties?" Optimus asked, focus shifting to those who were non-combatants.

"The one with the highest number of Autobot casualties," Prowl answered. "The less we use area affecting weapons, the more territory must be cleared by our soldiers on pede."

"My desire would be for the fewest number of civilian casualties as possible. The more of them we lose, the more of our way of life is lost, and far too much of it is gone already." There was an odd tone to the Prime's voice, as though another was speaking as well. "Those of our ranks have made their choice, as have the Decepticons."

"Even if that means a greater number of total casualties?" Prowl pressed, tense and wary of the agreement.

"Can you project a breakdown? Percentages?" Optimus requested, probably as involved in one of these discussions as he had been in over a millennia.

"Of course," Prowl's doorwings flicked slightly at the insult. Within a klik he'd laid out every plan he considered viable with the casualty counts, both total and by group, easily read on a single screen.

"Select the three plans that have the lowest civilian casualty rates." Prime instructed quietly as he looked all of the plans over. "Lay them out with as much detail as possible, and give me projections for recovery and rebuilding times based on each. How long will that take you?"

Prowl considered the request briefly. "Less than a groon, Prime."

"I'll take them as soon as you have them ready. You will have a decision within and orn. This- this has to end."

Prowl's doorwings quivered with relief. "On that, we agree, Prime." He inclined his helm slightly. "I will return when I am ready to present you with the three best options to limit civilian casualties." When Prime nodded his acceptance, Prowl turned to leave with his shadow. They were silent on the short walk to Prowl's office, but once that door closed Prowl all but crumpled with relief.

Jazz moved around, catching his lover in his arms and nuzzling Prowl. "Told you we had been working on him."

"You and Primus if his vocalizer harmonics are anything to go by," Prowl gratefully accepted the support for the last few paces to his desk chair. It was one of the few things that Prowl had used his rank to acquire. A Praxian specific design, it supported his frame perfectly. Prowl excused it by saying that he could work longer and more effectively if he did not require the energy and attention diverted to his frame. Jazz was just glad his lover had asked for it. "I'm sure you heard that. It wasn't quite himself."

"Yeah, I did. Maybe he's startin' to find some sorta balance, like the old stories say they can." Jazz mused as he settled on the corner of Prowl's desk and pulled a cube of energon from his subspace, cracking it open and offering it to his lover. "Your favorite."

"Thank you," Prowl accepted it with an honest, warm smile and a thankful caress of his field as their fingers caressed. "Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. Anything that allows me to end the war while it's still possible is a good thing."

With that said, he pulled out a datapad, plugged into it, then into his workstation, turned his optics off and trusted his mate to guard his fundamentally helpless frame as he poured every joule of energy and processor power he could claim into the effort before him. No part of him trusted that this grace would last, and he willingly pulled resources in from all over the base and beyond to ensure he could create something the Prime would authorize before it was over.

* * *

In the end the fighting had still cost more sparks than then the Prime had wanted to see extinguish, but at least the worst of the fighting was over and what was left of the Decepticons were leaderless and scattered.

Megatron had fallen in battle, as Prowl was rather sure the deranged mech would have wanted to go, if he had devoted any processor power to the matter, or even the possibility. Prowl was just as sure that Megatron would be furious that it wasn't Prime who'd done him in. That honor went to Bluestreak for the aim and Wheeljack for the weapon.

Shockwave had been a much more difficult target, and one he knew his mate would be forever grateful for the anti-matter bomb that had been created and the single spark that had volunteered to ensure that Shockwave was in the base when it went off. It was the single true suicide mission of the campaign, though far from the only suicidal mission. Three of those had been Jazz's. He couldn't ask an agent to do something that dangerous when he knew he was more likely to survive.

Starscream and Skywarp were both executed in their berths by Whiplash, along with Scrapper, Vortex and Tantrum. The only mission he failed at was to keep Thundercracker alive. The Seeker hadn't survived the double break in the trine bond long enough to matter. It had been a serious blow to Prowl's war-ending strategy, but not one that had been a hole for long.

Soundwave was the only Decepticon of any credible rank still functioning, and the reason the war ended even earlier than Prowl anticipated. The host was currently in holding, his fate being debated. Two of his three staunchest allies shocked almost everyone. Everyone expected Optimus Prime, whether they agreed with him or not. It was just how Prime was. Prowl, though, only Jazz and Red Alert understood why he was by far the most aggressive defender of Soundwave's potential to be a fully functional and law abiding citizen. Blaster was the other surprise, though most folks figured it was something about sympathy for the other host.

It had taken the better part of three vorns of assassinations, three photon missiles and dozens of brutal battles before Optimus Prime had finally been able to make a planet wide announcement the orn before declaring the war officially over except for the clean-up all knew was still going to happen.

In the cheering afterward he had also made a request of Prowl. To have the extent of the damage mapped as much as possible, and the draw up comprehensive plans based on the results for rebuilding their world. It had taken Prowl less than a klik to download the damage maps, and less than an orn for the rest.

His first order of business: send the volunteers on Decepticon hunts to clear out the remaining pockets of resistance.

Once they were on their way, he turned his full attention to organizing Autobots, Neutrals and reformatted former Decepticons into units to begin building the basics of survival. Energon production, shelter, infrastructure and the recovery of knowledge. In the moments he had, he trained both volunteer Enforcers and a handful that had been sparked for the function to keep order and defuse arguments.

It was a period of vorns where Jazz and Prowl rarely saw each other outside of officer or tactical meetings, and neither had the time to try for more. There was too much to do, and the few times they managed to snag a recharge cycle at the same time on the same base were welcome moments of calm they both desperately needed.

Curled together on the berth, their sparks as close as they could be without actually physically touching each other. They needed the peace and the closeness of the one that had seen them through the worst of the war, one they had come to depend on over anyone else.

It was during one of those rare quiet orns that Jazz finally broached a question that had been weighing heavily on his spark. "Love?"

"Mmm?" Prowl hummed, indicating he was aware enough to talk.

"What are you going to do next?" Jazz asked. "After Prime is done with you."

"He'll never be done with using me," Prowl replied, resigned to the truth of it and as something he tried not to contemplate much.

"You'll ask him again anyway." Jazz said, sure of this fact as he snuggled between Prowl's wings, nuzzling the back of his lover's neck. "If you appeal to his sense of fairness, there's the chance he'll say yes. Then what?"

Prowl was silent for a long time before he responded. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt you, but deactivation is the only reason to request being released from duty."

"You wouldn't asked to be reassigned?" Jazz inquired quietly.

"To ... what?" Prowl asked, completely at a loss as to that option.

"Something behind the scenes? What about going back to being a planner? Or even a hunter?" Jazz asked, feeling the thrill at just the concept surge through his mate. "Ya proved you still have it in ya. More than once."

"But I had so much stripped when they reassigned me," Prowl tried to correlate what he felt with the statements of a mech he trusted implicitly.

"Maybe they stripped some of your programming and memories, but not your spark or drive. Can't touch that. What would ya need, to feel ya could do it again?" Jazz asked.

Prowl mulled it over. "You and a limited rebuild. My original coding would be a major advantage for my confidence."

"Do you think copies of it still exist? If we could find one, or somethin' close, we might be able to convince Ratchet to give it a shot." Jazz encouraged.

Prowl thought about it. Then poked at his tac-net and began a more detailed search of his memory banks. "It would require Prime's order to retrieve it, but I believe that a copy exists in the tac-net. It does have severe issues with lost data of any kind, far beyond what even Enforcer coding produces," he said, sounding less than sure of it, only hopeful. He wanted it true more than he was sure of it. "If not, it could likely be reconstructed to a significant extent from existing coding and my memories of operating under it."

"He would, if you asked, I bet." Jazz said, more hopeful then he had been, and letting that hope bleed into his field for Prowl to feel.

"You'd ... the life of a hunter is not a pleasant one for such a social mecha." Prowl refocused on his mate. "We spend vorns at a time hunting a single target across the galaxy."

"Will I be with ya? Would ya accept me as a partner?" Jazz asked softly, prodding gently. "Ya always said ya work alone."

"Only because no one could keep up with me. No one I'd ever been partnered with did anything but slow me down," A pulse of pride-warmth pressed into Jazz. "You're as good as I am, and in many of the ways that I am weak. Yes, I would very much like you as my partner."

"Then ask him. We'll get breaks, between. I can be social. And I won't be alone." Jazz pointed out, continuing to nuzzle Prowl and bask in the emotional warmth of his love's respect and desire for him. "Can leave running this ops mess to someone else, and focus on you, and a mission. Like it used to be."

"I ... would like that. Very much," Prowl shivered as the first inkling of genuine hope flared up in him in a very long time. "I will ask."

"Give the Prime his plans. Then let me know. But until then...we have a little time to ourselves." Jazz purred suggestively.

"We do," Prowl's purred deepened with a quite flare of arousal as he pressed against his mate. "What do you desire most?"

"Your spike, and then your spark." Jazz rumbled, already hot and only growing hotter as he felt the answering flare from Prowl.


	8. The Final Victory

Jazz came online slowly, savoring the feel of his mate pressed against his frame, their fields entwined deeply. They were safe, home to rest for a time. Recovering from the hunt that had been the tracking and the take-down of the Decepticon Barricade.

Barricade had been something of challenge. When the mech wanted to, he could hide. But his tendency to leave a path of destruction behind him had finally given him away.

They were a half a vorn into their after mission break, hopefully to be released some time soon. Jazz still enjoyed his social, and with a new-old purpose Prowl tolerated it better than he had during his time as an Autobot officer.

The smaller mech's smile widened as he felt Prowl start to boot, and he started to manipulate his field, brushing against his lover's in gentle waves of affection. The spark he loved and that he knew loved him pulsed back well before Prowl was coherent enough to respond to the attention.

A pleased hum was the first sound Prowl made, and it was soon followed by an aroused flare of his field, inviting Jazz to press even closer as they luxuriated in the wonderfully strange ability to recharge together and boot up slowly. Jazz complied willingly, molding his frame against Prowl's and reaching around the Praxian's sides to gently tease at the doorwings located there. They pressed into the touch with a fresh flare of arousal and slightly louder rumble of Prowl's engine as he finished booting enough to lean in for a kiss.

"Morning lover." Jazz purred between kisses, stroking the wings he knew so well. "Plans for the orn?"

"Mmm, indulge in you, fuel, delay insanity by boredom with the news as long as possible, forget I'm locked in a suite with your spark and frame," Prowl deadpanned with a mixture of humor and genuine annoyance. "I haven't been this still this long since I was an Autobot."

"But why would ya want to forget your locked in here with me? Sick of me already?" Jazz teased back as he tilted his helm to nibble at Prowl's neck cables.

"You, never," Prowl rumbled and tipped his helm back. "Sick of not seeing daylight, starlight or your tail lights, quite definitely."

"Hmmm..." Jazz hummed. "Maybe next time we can request a room large enough to spar in. Would that help?"

"If we're on a hunt that long, I will," Prowl pressed into the touches, kisses and encouraged Jazz's voice to be lost to moans from his touch. "When we get out of here, I'm going to chase you from here to Kaon and back."

"Run- long as ya want." Jazz promised, frame flaring hot under the Praxian's hands as he gave in. Desire flared through his field, burned in his frame when he heard and felt Prowl's spike cover slide open.

"You run, I'll catch you, and you'll run some more," Prowl revved just at the prospect.

With a laugh Jazz slipped from his lover's arms, springing from the berth as his visor flashed, field taunting Prowl to come and get him. The pursuit engine roared behind him and he danced away, laughing and making good use of his agility to keep ahead of his mate as they darted around the three room suite until Prowl finally corned him in the washrack.

* * *

Half a level away, the two mecha who would determine if the pair would be free soon or not stood watching them on a wall-sized monitor with a silent shadow nearby that technically had no business being there but wasn't chased away out of respect for who he had been to them all.

"If they don't pass an eval soon, I will need to clear a track for them. Prowl is taking confinement better than I anticipated, but he's near his limit," Mirage commented as they watched Jazz allow Prowl to pin him against the shower wall and turn the solvent on.

"It might be worth doing anyway." Mindguard commented as she watched the pair. "It is a level of normal from them both that might drop them out of the hunter mentality faster."

Mirage hummed thoughtfully. "Whiplash. You have more experience with Prowl. Your assessment of their state?"

"His focus is shifting back to Jazz, in a good sense. Neither of them acted hyper-vigilant of the other in the last eval session, and there was no talk of 'target'." Whiplash said calmly. "That's as good as he got as an Autobot. That," he motioned to the playful interfacing and what had preceded it, "is a lot better than he ever was as an Autobot. He's probably as sociable as he ever gets. And Jazz...."

"Jazz is Jazz. He was likely stable enough after the first metacycle but was enjoying the down time with Prowl too much to admit it," Mirage hummed with a hint of knowing amusement.

"They really are quite the couple, aren't they?" Mindguard smiled indulgently as she watched the solvent turned off and sparklight brighten the room. "I'm rather amazed they haven't bonded yet."

"Prowl may never agree to it. With his programming, he would have to get it approved." Whiplash said. "Jazz may bring it up, some orn. He's cared for Prowl for a long time. Took the mech forever to admit it."

"Which one admitted it first?" Mirage asked, genuinely curious in the way a natural spy was.

"Prowl did, if I understand correctly. Took Jazz going down in that firefight for him to admit it to me." Whiplash chuckled. "I knew before then, but it was nice to have him finally fess up."

"It always is," Mirage smiled faintly before looking at the screen and the ending spark merge and the gentle, affectionate nuzzling and petting that resulted. "There are moments when they seem like a healthier couple than most."

"Then you see what they're like on a mission and remind yourself that they are both basically psychopaths," Whiplash chuckled. "Really, if it weren't for their bond to each other and Prowl's coding, they could be two of the most dangerous criminals ever created."

"Possible, but a true psychopath has no ability to empathize with others," Mindguard reminded them both. "Most of their psychopathic traits were trained into them."

"Which begs the question, would a bond between them be a good thing, or a bad thing?" Whiplash wondered as the pair pulled energon from the supply that had been delivered that orn, Jazz sweetening Prowl's and teasing the Praxian with it just a bit.

"A good thing," Mindguard said firmly, surprising both mechs. "It will give them both something to fall back on when their coding goes just a bit too haywire. It'll definitely bring Prowl back to civilized center far more quickly when he can use Jazz's spark to help judge that they're safe. Jazz always was fast at resetting his parameters. They are a darling pair. Someone should point out that Prime would be happy to officiate their bonding."

"He never said that," Whiplash glared at her.

"That doesn't make it any less true," she chuckled.

"So who is going to plant the idea in their processors?" Mirage asked as he contemplated the idea from several angles.

"You're the boss," Whiplash and Mindguard both grinned at him.

"Which means it is also my job to run this idea past the Prime, isn't it?" Mirage said as he turned to look at them, arms crossed.

"Nah, boss," Whiplash grinned at them. "He's been good with it since Jazz admitted he loved Prowl." He sobered quickly. "It's the least he owes that mech for what he did to him."

"Very well. You get to plant the idea in Jazz's processor." Mirage informed the dark mech, his tone smug.

Whiplash shrugged and pinged Jazz right then and there.

::Gonna flay you if this isn't a release order.:: Jazz growled at him, his hands never wavering from the indulgent cleaning that was turning Prowl into a moaning puddle of strutless mech.

::Raj wants me to tell you to get your act together and ask him to bond already,:: Whiplash informed him.

::Wha?:: Jazz's hands never wavered as they worked on his lover, leaning down to indulge in a kiss with his lover even as Prowl's doorwings gave a questioning twitch.

::You heard me. Don't you dare tell me you're in denial again.:: Whiplash huffed, then closed the comm. "Done."

"Good. Now...how long until he goes through with it?" Mirage mused.

Whiplash regarded the scene of the couple so in love and well synched that it was occasionally nauseating. "Before their next hunt, I expect."

* * *

"Whiplash." Jazz murmured in explanation between soft kisses, his attention drifting a bit as he contemplated the order, and how to go through with something that he had honestly wanted for a long time, but had been hesitant to bring up. It led him to a single, central question: why was he hesitating? If Whiplash was telling him to get moving on it, then command, all the way up to Prime, were good with them bonding.

"Lover?" Jazz purred, continuing to rub the lax frame under his hands.

Prowl only hummed, but the subtle focus of his field indicated he was paying attention and coherent enough for most conversations.

"Love." Jazz continued, reading the shift in Prowl's feel. "Mate."

He was fishing, testing the waters and feelings for responses, and felt the warmth and pleasure at the terms infuse Prowl's field.

"Bonded?" Jazz continued, making it into a question, his field full of hope.

Prowl's field stilled, flickering with confusion, unconscious joy and uncertainty. "It ... would be allowed?"

"Well, considering the mecha who mentioned it, more than allowed." Jazz admitted quietly, his own hope rising.

Prowl took a moment. "Whiplash. You ... want to bond? To be that close to me forever?" He tried to keep the _want_ in check, but it didn't hide much.

"Would you like it?" Jazz asked. "Let me in that deep? I've loved your spark for a long time."

"Yes," Prowl trembled at the prospect of never being alone again. His tac-net helpfully supplied all the non-emotional advantages to their function and their ability to coordinate in the field.

"Weighing the pros and cons, lover?" Jazz asked, settling down next to Prowl's frame, stroking a wing softly as he enjoyed the feel of Prowl thinking and processing.

"More accurately, I'm trying to find a reason to say no," Prowl purred at the attention and what was going through his processors. They enjoyed it for a few kliks before Prowl spoke again. "I ... need..." he stuttered as tension enveloped his frame. Ventilations picked up sharply and pain flickered through Prowl's field despite his efforts to shield Jazz from it. "Don't want to live without you."

The small mech shushed him gently, holding him tight even as he shoved through a comm line to Mirage and Whiplash. ::You heard him. I'm not going any further 'less I get your _word_ you'll end his suffering if I go. His spark goes to the Well, pronto. I don't care what the Prime wants.::

::As long as I function, I'll keep that promise,:: Whiplash replied first. ::He won't outlive you for long.::

::Agreed,:: Mirage's voice was more even, less emotional, but no less firm. ::He is _my_ agent and has been since the war ended and you stepped down. I will not suffer an agent to that much pain without exceptional reason. A Prime's will is not enough.::

::Thank you.::

His entire attention shifted back to the mech in his arms, holding Prowl close and wrapping his love in warmth and safety. "You will not have to. You will be taken care of." His words carried all the promise that he had been given. It was enough, though as Prowl calmed down the pained hiccups couldn't be stilled completely until he'd worked his way out of the coding corner he'd pushed himself into by asking. Soon though, his field settled and his frame relaxed, then he reached for a long, lingering kiss of pure adoration.

"Taken care of." Jazz repeated softly. "Ya know I'd never do less for ya."

"I know," Prowl whispered, his vocalizer laced with static until he finished resetting his systems. "I know I can trust you to do what I can not."

"So any other reason we shouldn', love?" Jazz purred.

"I only require permission," Prowl shivered in anticipation that was in no way faked. "Prime must agree."

"Then as soon as we're out of here, it's a done deal." Jazz smiled, his own anticipation shining bright as he kissed his mate.

"In the meantime, we celebrate?" Prowl moaned just at the thought of having part of Jazz with him always. His chest locks disengaged and began to part, eager to feel his mate in that intense intimacy.

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, until they let us out of here." Jazz agreed, the light of his own spark already showing bright as it reached for Prowl's, and the peace and joy it knew it would find there.

* * *

Despite knowing it was a ridiculous notion, Prowl was sure he could never fully express to Jazz just how much it meant to him that he hadn't been required to ask Prime. The war and their constant struggle over what was right had left deeper scars in Prowl's psyche than he cared to admit, so when Jazz did all the talking and Prowl only had to answer direct questions, it was an intense relief.

Then the plans for the ceremony and celebration once more showed how much Jazz paid attention and cared about his partner. As they walked into the Central Temple of Iacon, such as it was, the Matrix Room, the high alter of the place, was largely empty. Only four mecha stood there to witness them enter. Mirage as their commander, Whiplash, because they both still thought of him as such and he was their handler/unit commander and when it came right down to it were there at both their requests. Prowl needed them, needed their visible approval in this way.

With Jazz as his only unit mate and the Prime suitable as a stand in for the Lord of Law, a rank that no longer existed, Prowl needed no one else.

Bluestreak and Smokescreen were there as Praxians, the last Praxians who'd seen Praxus. While neither had been strictly invited, Bluestreak was still a master at getting what he wanted with innocent charm that Jazz just _knew_ wasn't innocent. Saying no to the pair had not been worth the effort. That Prowl had not openly objected had made it a little easier, and had led Jazz to suspect that it was something of a deeper Praxian culture thing. Which in a way was all the more reason to not put up too much of a flight.

"Still ready for this, love?" He asked softly, giving Prowl one more chance to back out, even though he was already sure he knew the answer.

"Very ready," Prowl's doorwings have an excited flutter. It was a muted movement, but spoke clearly all the same to those that knew him. "We'll never be alone again after tonight."

"No, we won't." Jazz agreed, fingers weaving with Prowl's as they walked forward together, stopping before the Prime they had served through the war, and now after.

Optimus still stood helm and chest over them both even without his heavier war-frame, and as Jazz looked up he couldn't help but be glad at the change he saw in the Prime. While the war had not been good for the Prime, peace was, and Jazz knew he was not the only one who wondered if the Matrix had not put Optimus through the war so that he would be capable of building a better peace.

"Welcome. I have been looking forward to this orn for many centuries," Optimus greeted them as the friends he saw them as, even if he was at least somewhat aware that the status was not one he held with them. Not because of rank, but because even after all the good that had come of it, Prowl still resented him for forcing the Enforcer to live.

The soon to be bonded pair inclined their helms and Prowl dipped his doorwings in acknowledgement.

"Is everyone now present?" Optimus asked, optics rising to look around those now assembled.

"They are, Prime." Jazz responded, his field bushing against Prowl's to check anyway. It brushed back with confirmation, and a settled pleasure of being absolutely sure of what he was planning.

Optimus drew himself to his full height, his bearing taking on a formal air that spread throughout the room. When his spoke again, his words echoed through the room, and through all those gathered there.

"Primus values each spark that comes from him, and he finds no greater joy than then those sparks find joy in each other. This orn those of here are gathered the witness the joy that two sparks have find in each other, and wish to share before Primus for eternity. In accordance with the wishes of the couple that will soon join their sparks and become one, this ceremony will be as simple and personal as their love for each other." He turned to Jazz. "Please say what you wish before Primus's envoy."

Prowl broke with tradition again turned away from Prime to face Jazz. "I know we began as your mission to keep me functional enough to perform my new function. At the time I could not care. I knew and still only saw someone who was willing to be around me. Even when I began to care about you as a mech, a friend as you phrased it, I knew it was your mission to be that and keep me from committing processor suicide. When you weren't next to me, I resented our commanders that order. Eventually it was not because I did not wish to continue, but because I could never be sure if you were there because you wished it or it was because you were obligated."

He dropped his gaze briefly. "I continued to doubt until our first hunt together after the war. I had loved you for a long time already. It was not until then, not until I was released from duty of any significant consequence, that I could believe you cared for me. I have never been so glad for a moment in my existence than the one where you said you loved me and I could believe you meant it without coercion.

"There is a saying among kindled mecha that the war brought to the fore. Being willing to extinguish for someone. My people had a similar saying; to be willing to live for someone. It means being willing to defy orders and continue functioning for the good of another. As much as it was officially criminalized, quietly, every Enforcer with a hint of romance in them thought it was the most terrifyingly romantic notion, to have a lover willing to continue past their function just for you. No one I knew of ever thought they might be the one willing to live against orders. No one could accept being the one that could do _that_.

"I am willing to live for you, Jazz. I have for a long time. Against all sanity and coding, it's not terrifying at all," Prowl's smile was faint but adoring as he met Jazz's gaze.

"Prowl." Jazz started softly, the designation of the mech he adored rolling off of his glossa with all of the affection and love he felt rich in the sound. "Yes, you were my mission, but never once did I lie about wanting to be with you, around you, close to you. Especially after you let me in, let a kindled spark into your world, and accepted and forgave him.

"You showed me that there was a deeper side to functioning, one that I want to embrace forever."

"For as long as we both still function," Prowl promised, his field thick with the warmth and love he felt for Jazz. "One spark in two frames."

"One spark, two frames." Jazz agreed softly, winding his fingers with Prowl's.

The approval in the room was thick around them, mixing with their joy.

"Mecha see the frame, the optics, the outside. Primus sees the deepest hopes, dreams, and feelings of the spark." Optimus spoke, smiling down at the pair. "And he smiles when his creations share what he can see. He sees your sparks and hears your words. Prowl, do you take the mech before you are your mate before Primus, sharing spark and function until you return to the Well?"

"Yes, Prime. I do." Prowl's doorwings quivered, part of him still coming to grips with the concept that this was even _permitted_.

Optimus smiled even more warmly at the depth of emotion there, and the small movement forward that he'd made in earning Prowl's respect. "Jazz, do you take the mech before you are your mate before Primus, sharing spark and function until you return to the Well?"

"I do," Jazz said giddily.

"Then before Primus and with his blessing, I declare the two of you bonded." Optimus said, nodding to them both before stepping back and motioning to a small table that had been brought in specially for the event. "With the signing of the contract, the government of this world will acknowledge your bonding as well."

Prowl's optics brightened slightly with a flare of adoration that Jazz would do this most Enforcer-like thing for him. Jazz flared his field back with all the emotions trying to explode from his spark as they walked to the table, still hand in hand, and read the document together. It wasn't as if they didn't know what it contained. They had written it together after all. It was yet another nod to the very public nature of relationship contracts in Prowl's culture. Reading it together, before witnesses, was a public statement of consent and agreement just as strong as the signatures that made it legally binding.

Prowl had to focus to steady his hand enough to engrave the highly complex glyph that was his formal designation before offering the special stylus to Jazz.

With a gentle squeeze of their still joined hands Jazz took the stylus, adding his formal glyph. It was clearly legible, but still flared with a style that was all the mech's own and as much in contrast to Prowl's absolutely classical style as their personalities were.

When he was finished he laid the stylus down. It would stay with the formal contract laid before them. Jazz was personally planning to have it framed and displayed in the quarters that were reserved as their personal space. Those quarters were currently in Iacon, but once Praxus was rebuilt to the point where it was a viable city to decompress in, he intended to ask Prowl if he wanted to move there. Even now he got mixed messages during merges about Praxus. Prowl missed it dearly, but he was also decidedly uncertain that he wanted to live in _new_ Praxus while he had so many memories that didn't belong there.

None of that was on their processors though as Prowl slid his free hand up to lightly rub a sensor horn as he guided Jazz in for a long, soft, sensually chaste kiss before the witnesses. His field spoke to all of them.

_Mine_

The message was not lost on those gathered around, nor was the way that Jazz moved into the touch and the kiss. The motion of Jazz's free hand over Prowl's doorwing was just as possessive, the kiss just as chaste.

They were a pair, dedicated to each other.

"Ready for the party, love?" Jazz asked as kiss ended.

"Only because it will mean escaping to our quarters sooner," Prowl's deep baritone was pure desire.

"Energon. Goodies. Be an example of healing. Dance with me." Jazz replied, still smiling. "Then I am yours. _All yours_ ," he purred deeply at the shiver and rev of Prowl's engine the promise generated.

"Come," Mirage smiled at them both, his hands coming up to not quite touch each on the shoulder to guide them towards the door. "As intense a show as you give, I think it might cause a spark attack or two here."

Prowl grinned and everyone realized that this was not the tactician they'd known. This mech was just a bit feral and loving it. 

Jazz laughed, a familiar sound with a new edge to it, but turned with his love, allowing himself to be guided along. He was still a social mech, and the party was something that he was going to enjoy. But as they left the interior of the temple and stepped into the courtyard and gardens among music and cheers, there was evidence of truth to his words.

This was a celebration of recovery for more than just them and it warmed Jazz's spark to teek and feel that Prowl saw it too. Sure his mate was a bit jacked up and tense in crowds after being used to not having mecha around much, but he wasn't reacting aggressively and he wasn't upset. He simply staid close to Jazz, a shadow intent on protecting him, as Jazz began to socialize and enjoy the party and people.

Mecha that remembered them as creatures far different than what they functioned as now gathered around, congratulating them.

Jazz took the lead, fielding the congratulations, the questions, and the comments with easy replies and happy laughter as he public fawned over his bonded.

When the music started his field sparked, flaring against Prowl with excitement and anticipation. Prowl's caressed his in return with a willingness he never would have had as a tactician. Jazz knew Prowl didn't love to dance, no matter how good his balance and programming made him at it, but without the weight of rank and a disliked function on his shoulders, he was far more willing to indulge and be a mecha.

It warmed Jazz's spark to feel how much more alive Prowl was now, when he looked forward to his duties, and his grin threatened to crack his faceplates as he guided a willing Prowl into the dance.

Mecha moved away, looking on with approval as the pair took command of the dance floor. Jazz allowed the smile to break free as he moved with Prowl, their steps flowing in time with the music.

It was a Praxian classic, one that Jazz had requested specifically after some digging. He could feel Prowl relax at steps familiar to him. Even if he'd never danced it, he knew the patterns well and appreciated how appropriate it was. Slowly the lover's dance shifted from one of propriety to one of intimacy, the pair pressed against each other, hands entwined and forehelms resting together. If Jazz had been Praxian, their chevrons would have lined up, but even as it was he could feel as much as teek how intimate this was for Prowl, how much the public dance, _this_ dance, meant to him.

The elegant doorwings that Prowl still wore were flared wide, graceful. Jazz would have matched him, if he possessed such appendages. But instead he drank in every view of them, storing them away so that he could fawn over them in private later.

This dance, a bonded's dance, was a small gift for his love. A visible declaration before the two disappeared into the shadows again and a display to all who understood just what Prowl meant to him. It had taken so much work to just find out the song existed, then piece it together from fragmented records and recordings once he had. He caught the beaming look Bluestreak gave him and knew it had been understood.

When the song came to an end and other music began to play, Jazz found himself still dancing with a willing Prowl and reveled in it. It wouldn't last, but he enjoyed it greatly for the three songs it did before Prowl guided them off the dance floor.

"Can we leave yet?" Prowl's voice was low and spoken into a nuzzle.

"Very soon." Jazz promised with a kiss. "Let us bid farewell to our Prime, and thank him. The others will see that the party goes well. We can continue celebrating in private."

"Good," Prowl rumbled, never more eager to get his mate alone in his life as he scanned for the Prime.

Jazz spotted him first and tugged Prowl that direction.

Optimus smiled as they walked up, his field full of approval, and giving away that he had been expecting them. "Jazz, Prowl. Congratulations, and blessings on your union. I hope you enjoy your leave of absence."

"We will, Prime," Jazz grinned a bit giddily. "Just wanted to say thanks before we disappear again."

"Yes, thank you Prime," Prowl's harmonics held less joy at who he was thanking, but no less honesty for that.

"You are welcome." Optimus nodded to them both, then moved away and deliberately drawing attention to himself to better allow the couple to slip away.

"Mirage has already seen us. He knows. Ready to leave?" Jazz asked, a teasing edge to the question.

"Yes," Prowl only just kept the rev of his engine from drawing attention as he tugged his mate towards the road. Not that they could really drive it, but it was still the easiest, if not most direct route to their home. Jazz kept his lover's hand in his own, caressing the palm and sending rather naughty messages and ideas to his love as they walked. Prowl shivered and retaliated with detailed descriptions of just what he intended to do when they weren't deep in each other's sparks.

The teasing, and the way it affected Prowl's doorwings, did a good job of clearing their way. Even if there was anyone who didn't know who they were and that they were the reason for the party, it was simply common sense to get out of the way of lovers that focused on each other.

Things were a little blurry as they made their way up the main lift and into the small suite that served as their home.

Jazz pulled his mate into a passionate kiss as the door closed and locked securely behind them, then laughed a little as he looked around finally. "It seems as though our bosses took it upon themselves to deliver the bonding gifts." He said with a nod to a pile of packages and presents.

"It's good of them," Prowl purred. "So..." he tapped something obscenely erotic against Jazz's hip, "unwrap them, 'face, or bond first?"

"They aren't going anywhere, they can wait. But if you keep that up, I'm not going to wait to get to a berth to have you." Jazz threatened, then softened. "I have waited vorns to have your spark touch mine forever. No more waiting."

"Then, my love," Prowl leaned in for a kiss that quickly heated as he backed Jazz towards the berthroom. "No more waiting. We bond now."

Jazz just purred, field and frame vibrating with anticipation as he turned them, pushing Prowl gently backward on the berth as soon as it was in reach. As the Praxian fell back Jazz caught himself, looking down at the lovely sight spread before him. One that was all his. Only his. His mate. His love. His bonded.

Bright pale blue optics looked up at him, Prowl's field full of desire and trust. Jazz had worked long and hard to earn those things, and now he was going to reap the ultimate reward for his efforts.

Prowl's chest plates unlocked and began to part, the armor no lighter than during the war and no less inclined to move, but it did. Prowl wanted this, wanted the vulnerability for the prize it would earn.

"Mine." Jazz growled possessively as he climbed on top his mate, shielding the offered spark with his own frame as he kissed his mate.

Out of sight his armor mirrored the motion of his mate's, folding away to allow the rapidly pulsing spark free.

"Yours," Prowl's moan was excited. "Mine," he shivered with pleasure at the leaders found and wrapped around each other.

"Always." Jazz whispered before he finished sinking down on his mate as sparks well familiar with each other drew them close. Pleasure bloomed with the awareness of the other in their sparks, a sense deeply welcomed by each, and with it came how eager they both were to never be without the other again. It came in different flavors though, with Jazz fixated on it being _Prowl_ , and Prowl more focused on never being alone again, with only a secondary joy of it being Jazz that would allow that.

Gentle amusement drifted across the connection, a reminder that Jazz never ceased to be amazed at how different they were, and at how well they blended despite the differences. Prowl's thoughts easily agreed, along with his regular bewilderment at Jazz's lateral thinking and how much stronger he felt when Jazz was at his side to do that lateral thinking. The absolute trust Prowl had in Jazz, both in the hunt and with himself. The pleasure Prowl took in how much Jazz trusted him.

~And now we'll be able to function so much more efficiently.~ Jazz purred over the connection, sinking into the merge with the joy it always was and new joy at what this merge would make them.

~Yes, and you will be able to distract me all the more efficiently when needed,~ Prowl purred in reply. Though the subject was dark, the thoughts were sweet and adoring.

~Of course. And much more creatively.~ Jazz agreed, blurred suggestive images surging across the merge as his spark surged deeper, seeking the very center of his love's life-force. He found himself welcomed in even as he felt Prowl seek out his core as well, waiting to complete this, to truly become one, so very much it made both their sparks ache.

~You. Mine. Me. Us.~ Jazz moaned as their cores finally met, pressing against each other and then starting to merge, pulsing and melding as the energies mingled and mixed.

~Mine. Ours. We/Me. Us.~ Prowl shuddered and surrendered the last of his independent identity to form the bond and come out the other side as himself, but forever changed.

* * *

Warm.

Through his frame, his spark, his processor- Jazz was warm. The feeling was marvelous. There was a wonderful warm light in his spark, and he reached out to caress that warmth, delighted at its presence. The warmth felt familiar too, and it wasn't long before his booting systems finally told him why.

Prowl.

They'd bonded.

That warmth was Prowl still deep in recharge.

Jazz snuggled closer to his mate's frame, hands stroking along the smooth armor as he just enjoyed the quiet as the warmth continued to settle. It was soothing, the feeling of Prowl with him and in his spark, and it was a center that he wanted to remember and be able to return to always. Prowl had become his stable center, his stability in a world and himself that was always on the move, always changing. No matter what happened, Prowl was always exactly what Jazz expected.

He heard Prowl's systems begin to boot up, felt it in his spark a moment later, teeked it a moment after that, and finally felt the frame begin to power up its larger motors.

Ice blue optics came online to Jazz nuzzling gently at his neck and face before Jazz tipped Prowl's face to claim a tender kiss accompanied by words that were just as tender. ~My bonded.~

Prowl shivered with a mixture of awe and joy as he pressed into both the kiss and the words going directly into his spark. ~Will live for you.~

~Thank you, my love.~ Jazz smiled, cradling Prowl's helm between his hands and resting his forehelm against Prowl crest. ~Primus willing, my spark will walk with yours forever.~

~Primus willing,~ Prowl agreed, a hope, though unspoken, that when he was called for duty in a frame once more, that Jazz would be sent into a frame nearby.

~Yes.~ Jazz agreed, deep desire matching Prowl's. ~Maybe a question we can bother Prime with, after we're ready to face the outside again.~

Prowl nuzzled him, warm and content to simply be next to his mate, his bonded, the other half of his spark. ~Energon is good. What could Prime tell us though?~

~Energon. Shall we go together, or should I fetch yours?~ Jazz queried, perfectly willing to wait on his mate. ~If Primus will let us to remain together through deactivation and functioning.~

He felt Prowl mull it over even as Prowl got their frames moving, entirely unwilling to be out of physical contact. ~I suppose he may know something about it,~ he accepted, even if he didn't believe he'd trust any answer given.

Jazz's fingers teased gently at Prowl's back as they walked, an easy reach from where he was tucked against his bonded's side.

His bonded.

Playfully he pushed against Prowl's spark, sure that the words and the feeling of Prowl there would never get old. Having the Praxian at his side before this had not gotten old, and this wouldn't either. The awareness in his spark that was Prowl agreed completely. They were a good match, they made each other stronger, they both felt safe and secure with the other.

It was something Prowl didn't analyze, he simply accepted, enjoyed and craved more of. Energon in hand, Prowl tugged Jazz back to the soft berth and sat down, resting against the headboard with his bonded in his lap.

~Love you, live for you, want you always,~ Prowl pressed into the bond just how intense his feelings for Jazz were as they sipped their energon and snuggled close. ~We'll never be apart again.~

~Good.~ Jazz declared, already so comfortable with the closeness and this new permanent method of communication. The way the bondspeak allowed for so many layers speech- glyphs, emotions, feelings and energy- all at once was something that he was rapidly becoming very fond of.

~Very good,~ Prowl agreed as he slid towards a giddy happiness that would shut down his already struggling tac-net. A kiss interrupted their drinking, and before Jazz knew it, both cubes were on the berthside table and Prowl had leaded him back to lie on the berth, their glossa still tangling.

Dark hands came up to rub Prowl's sides as Jazz submitted, completely trusting the mech that now shared all that they were. Prowl meant safety. An aroused Prowl meant pleasure.

One white hand reached to rub a sensor horn while Prowl's spike slid out between them with a pulse of want/please through the bond.

"Oh yes." Jazz moaned, the scent of hot lubricant filling the room as his valve cover snapped open and his hips rolled up, offering.

~I love you. Love being with you. Love _this_.~ The caress across the bond that accompanied the words making very clear the specific to the bond and the all encompassing nature of the expression.

~Yesss,~ Prowl moaned in pleasure and agreement all at once as he sank into his love, and reveled in the echo of Jazz's pleasure he could feel through their bond.

~I could very, _very_ used to this.~ Jazz purred, valve rippling around the spike as both frames started to move in a familiar dance, reveling in the familiar pleasure and the new level of closeness.

~Want to,~ Prowl agreed completely, frame shuddering as their charge built quickly from the new pleasures of sharing.

~Yes.~ There was bliss in the simplicity of the pleasure, and Jazz surrendered to the charge spreading through him to tickle at his bonded's frame. Safe, stable, and so wonderful.

~My love.~

The words made it across the bond as they cried out, calling the other's designation with the overload that surged through them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1  
> Author: gatekat and Starsheild on LJ  
> Pairing: Jazz/Prowl  
> Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Optimus Prime, Ratchet  
> Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech  
> Codes: Slave Coding, Canon-typical Violence, Sticky, Spark, Bonding, Minor Character Death  
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
> 
> Summery: When an Enforcer survives the destruction of his city he's faced with a Prime who won't let him go and a young SpecOps agent determined to make him want to live.
> 
> Deaths: On screen: Nameless Cons. Off screen, Decepticon Elite.
> 
> Notes:  
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter


End file.
